Defying Physics
by Ridley C. James
Summary: Between Brothers AU. Jack Dalton wanted nothing more than to be home for Christmas. He imagined telling his kid brother that there would be no miracle coming this year would be the worst kind of news. That is until he gets word Mac has been hurt. Jack is willing to do almost anything to make it back, including pulling off the impossible.
1. Chapter 1

Defying Physics

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Merry Christmas and Happy Hannukah, and all the other beautiful holidays being celebrated this season. I am a sucker for Christmas, for so many reasons, the ultimate one being the coming of Jesus, but also because it seems to make everyone a little softer and so much kinder. I hope the day finds you surrounded by those you love, and if not, I wish you peace and comfort. This is a bit of a love letter to the soldiers, police officers, fire fighters and first responders who sacrifice to keep us safe. It is also a gift to the wonderful friends I have made in this MacGyver fandom. You are such gifts. Thanks to Mary who made this so much better, and please note that Boxer and Cooper belong to the talented Gib-who is a hero in her own right! PS-This is set in the Between Brothers Universe so definitely reading Fireflies in the Rain first!

RcJ

" _Love is when the other person's happiness is more important than your own." –H. Jackson Brown, Jr_

"That is a mighty fine tree, Wyatt." Beth Dalton was nestled on her leather sofa in Austin, Texas some eight thousand miles away, but when she leaned closer to the computer screen checking out her grandson and the two foot pine that sat on the makeshift table just beyond his shoulder, Jack could almost imagine catching a whiff of her familiar scent-vanilla and lavender, the slightest hint of turpentine from hours spent in her art studio.

"Operation Christmas Tree at its finest." Jack jerked his thumb towards the gift that had arrived a week after Thanksgiving. He was quite certain the woman before him knew good and well how the tree had found its way across the desert to Kabul, but she pretended to be unaware.

"What a nice surprise." Beth declared, her southern accent ringing clear as a bell over the speaker as if Jack was in the room with her, instead of the temporary quarters his unit currently found themselves stationed. It struck a pang of homesickness he promised himself he wasn't going to feel, so he bit the inside of his cheek to keep the overpowering longing in check as Beth re-situated herself on the couch. She tucked her feet beneath her like she did when Jack was boy and she'd have him climb up next to her for a story. Instead of Jack, Dodger the piglet who'd seemed to double in size since Thanksgiving was nestled on his back at her side. Beth scratched the pig's exposed belly, eliciting low rapturous grunts of pleasure. "How fortuitous that Angus and I sent you that strung popcorn and those beautiful paper snowflakes."

"Very fortuitous." Jack studied the tree with fondness replacing the feelings of melancholy with thoughts of the big kick he and his unit had gotten out of decorating it. Any tiny bit of Christmas joy was appreciated considering the bleakness of their current deployment. They'd even played Christmas music loud enough to drown out the distant thunder of shelling that seemed to never stop. Most of the songs were in Spanish, having been contributed by their teammate Big Sal, his simple handle spurning from the fact his given moniker was a run on sentence of names that none of them besides their language specialist could pronounce before ending with the simple Salazar. "Mac must have spent hours cutting out all those snowflakes," Jack gestured to one of the intricate patterns, returning his gaze to the screen. The guys were impressed that the kid made them all different. They go really well with the rifle cartridges Box used for ornaments."

"I prefer those spent shells to the bottle caps I can see from here." Beth shook her head, clucking her tongue. A strand of her came loose from her braid, curtaining her face. "I suppose those are all from colas?"

"Of course," Jack's grin widened, thinking of the stash of beer he and the boys had drunk on their day off. "You know how we good southern boys love our colas, but don't go fretting about my teeth rotting out because most of those were contributed by Coop."

"Then I am more worried about Cooper's liver going to waste than I am your oral hygiene." Beth tucked her hair behind her ear, picking up her tea. She shot Jack a knowing look over the rim as she took a careful sip, her dark eyes twinkling with mirth.

"I'll be sure to impart your concern to him, Nana." Jack would relate to his teammate how he'd thrown him under the bus just to get the big New Yorker riled.

"Should I remind you that getting fresh this close to Christmas could be a great tactical error on your part?" Beth returned the tea cup to the table beside her.

"Are you seriously cautioning me from ending up on Santa's Naughty List?" Jack chided knowing good and well it was not beyond his grandmother to fill his stocking full of coal and a bundle of switches just for fun. Mac, whose stocking would undoubtedly be overflowing with riches, would never let him live it down. "Because you know I stopped believing in the big guy way before I was Mac's age."

"Well, you were always more precocious than your brother. Angus has a much sweeter nature that's for sure, which I attribute to your kind-hearted mother. You are unflinchingly your father's son."

"The only reason Mac has given Santa the benefit of the doubt this long is that he hasn't quite figured out how to empirically prove that the man doesn't exist." Jack smirked, remembering his little brother's adamant theory that quantum physics might allow for the time and distance constraints.

"I'm sure it has nothing to do with my motto of those who don't believe, don't receive. That rule always seemed to keep you writing your annual letter to the North Pole each year." Beth grinned to take the sting from her observation. "I see your scarf also arrived." She gestured to the blue and gray wrap Jack had wound around his neck when he'd gone out for his last patrol of the evening and had purposively left on for their Skype session knowing it would please his grandmother to see him using the gift she'd sent. He'd forgone the gloves and hat that had come with it not wanting her to think he didn't have any heat at all in his quarters and worry herself needlessly over him and the others catching their deaths of pneumonia. The last thing Jack needed was Beth penning a letter of her own to his commanding officer. "Did Boxer and Coop like the ones I sent them?"

"They were more than grateful." Jack nodded, thinking how Box's eyes had even misted over as he tore into the present. He marveled how being far from home could make the most simple acts of kindness seem like a tremendous gift. "Coop balked at wearing Cowboy colors at first, but considering it's in the twenties here today, he swallowed his pride really quick like and donned that blue and silver like he'd been birthed and brought up on the hallowed ground of Texas."

"I'm convinced it's his New York upbringing that's led that nice boy astray. We'll convert him before long." The sparkle returned to her eye. "My daddy, God rest his soul, once brought twenty Ne'er-do-wells to Jesus just a few feet away from a well-known house of ill repute in the red-light district of Pittsburgh. If a bunch of randy, drunken Steelers can be saved, well one Giant's fan can surely be converted to the better team. You keep working on him Wyatt and I'll add him to my prayer list."

Jack laughed at his grandmother's equating of football to religious affiliations. Devoted Southern Baptist and Jesus lover that she was, Beth was still more likely to show grace to a polytheistic star-gazer than lovingly embrace a Steelers fan. "Well, Coop and his ungodly choice of teams aside, the rest of the boys sure did love your handiwork. You didn't have to go to all that trouble, Nana. It's not like the Army is going to let us freeze to death. They actually provide cold weather gear."

"Well, they're not going to let you starve either, but that doesn't stop me from worrying about what they're feeding you over there. If I could figure a way to send you a decent Christmas dinner I'd have done it by now." Nana picked up her tea once more as Renfro, the big diluted Calico sprung from the floor to land lightly on the back of the couch where he set upon kneading the cushion closest to Beth before curling into a tight furry ball near her head. "Besides no matter how high-tech the gear the government provides, I know for a fact it wasn't hand-knitted with love, care and an abundance of prayer like the ones I sent. It gave the ladies at my Sunday school class a project to tackle between Easter and Thanksgiving. We embrace the motto that idleness is the devil's handiwork you know."

"Well, I'm pretty sure old Satan's let you be seeing as how you've not had much idle time since my brother showed up. How'd the kid do on the solo flight there?" Mac had flown to Austin as soon as school had let out for the holiday break. Harry was on his annual hunting trip with some old war buddies at his cabin in Colorado. Jack had never known them to bag anything remotely like a wild turkey or a deer, but suspected they spent most of their time foraging for food, smoking cigars and reminiscing about the good old days. He would make his way into Austin before Christmas. Jack only wished he could claim the same, but he and his war buddies were on active duty, still making memories that he only prayed might someday stop waking them up in a cold sweat and be dulled enough by time that they could share them with any fondness over a beer and steaks.

"From what I understand he greatly impressed his fellow passengers with his vast knowledge of jet propulsion and charmed one of the stewardesses," His Nana's report cut through Jack's grim thoughts. Her smile had changed with talk of Jack's kid brother. It was obvious that ten year old Angus MacGyver was the apple of her eye and instead of eliciting even a twinge of jealousy in her oldest grandson, it always brought a lump to Jack's throat to know his grandmother was a benefactor in the joy that was Mac on most days. "A couple of them it appears if the fact he was loaded up with enough free peanuts and pretzels to survive in the woods for a few weeks was any indication. Your grandfather also received a glowing report about his manners which pleased me to no end as I sometimes worry about him living with Harry MacGyver, which when it comes to manners is the equivalent to turning him over to a pack of wolves." She rolled her eyes, smiling. "JP made sure to tell me that during the relating, the young women was also kind enough to comment on how she could see where Angus got his lovely eyes and handsome features. He came home from the airport all puffed up like a tick on hound and feeling his oats, as if his ego needed anymore inflation."

"Are we talking about JP or Mac?" Jack asked, feigning seriousness. Mac might not have technically been a Dalton by blood but Jack's grandfather didn't let that stop him from believing Mac was his mini me, and imparting all his Dalton wisdom to the kid. He'd bought Mac chaps and a Stetson before he could walk and was still trying to reconcile himself to the fact that although Mac enjoyed the ranch immensely and loved horses almost as much as he did the combined works of Einstein and Darwin, the kid preferred to love the massive animals from safely on the ground instead of astride their backs.

"I think you know the answer to that, considering the apple does not fall far from the tree and I have never met a Dalton man who couldn't do with being taken down a notch or two."

"So both?" Jack grinned, enjoying his grandmother's vexation at her husband's antics. The woman's lamenting eased a bit more of Jack's sadness although he couldn't help but wish he would be around for the fireworks show that Christmas dinner always provided when JP's extended family flooded through the gates of The Narrow Path ranch with all the grace of a wild stampede.

"Well, Angus is far from cocky, but he does seem to have about as good a grasp on the sway of a sweet smile as he does on the workings of gravitational pull. It's why he had chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast and has eaten more sugar cookies than a boy ever should at this time of the morning. I won't even go into how he is still puttering about out in the horse barn when I gave specific directions that he be back up here before the frost melted from the fence posts." Beth looked to the wall beyond the computer and Jack knew she was checking the time on the old cuckoo clock that hung above the stone mantle of the fireplace.

"Did you tell him I was going to try and set up our Skype for ten?" Jack knew the answer before he asked. The sympathetic look his grandmother gave him only confirmed what he'd suspected from the moment Mac hadn't been front and center of the screen when the satellite worked its magic and instead his grandmother had greeted him.

"I did but he's quite worked up about the new state of the art cooling system your grandfather is having installed in the horse barn. He's been trailing the workmen around these last couple of days like their boots are smeared with peanut butter and he's one of the Retrievers that your grandfather keeps bringing home. If we get many more Labradors we might as well be in the dog breeding business instead of fine equine stock." She rolled her eyes. "Just the other day JP was going on about getting 'Angus' another puppy to have here. Angus my foot. He wants another one for himself and…"

"So he _is_ mad at me." Jack saw Beth's rant about his grandfather for what it was, a distraction from the fact Mac had not shown up for a rare opportunity to talk with Jack face to face-well, at least as face to face as they could get considering they were separated by continents. He wasn't exactly surprised considering how their last call had gone. Mac had politely suffered through it, dutifully answering Jack's questions about how school was going and what new cinematic genius he and Bozer were currently filming with clipped one syllable answers instead of his typical enthusiastic stories. He hadn't even laughed at any of Jack's corny jokes, or offered any in return, which was a sure sign they were most definitely not in a good place.

"Who? JP?"

Jack supposed turn-about was fair play as his grandmother attempted a puzzled countenance, but his Nana was almost as terrible as her grandson at hiding her feelings so the careful attempts to avoid the truth of the matter was overshadowed by the concern and heartache in her dark eyes.

"Mac. He's mad that I'm not coming home." Jack forced a smile when his grandmother looked forlorn that her diversionary tactic had failed so miserably. "It's not like he doesn't have every right to be."

"He's angry with the situation that's keeping his big brother from being with his family at Christmas. He's mad at the war, and at the hate-filled terrorists that make it necessary for boys to run around shooting each other and blowing one another up, and I'd wager he has a fair bit of wrath built up for his spineless scoundrel of a father that chose the most terrible time to disappear but he isn't angry with you, Wyatt. Never with you." Jack recognized the new torrent of emotions that flashed through his grandmother's gaze, much like streaks of lighting flashing over the rolling hills in a summer thunderstorm and was quite certain his little brother wasn't the only one pissed.

"He should be mad at me. I damn well deserve it." Jack's chest tightened, his stomach churning. He ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. In his darkest moments he felt as much a deserter as James MacGyver.

"That's not true and mad isn't the right word for what Angus is at the moment. Disappointed and a bit downtrodden is a better description."

"I'd almost rather him be mad than hurt, Nana." Jack could not stand the thought of his kid brother suffering. He ran a hand over his hair, wishing he had the power to make things right. "He's been hurt enough for ten lifetimes and I'm sick of not being able to protect him."

"We are not always meant to protect the ones we love from life, Jack Wyatt Dalton. Trust me when I say that believing you, a mere mortal, can always fend off the monsters will get you nothing but blindsided when one makes it past you- _which it will_ -inevitably and always." Beth leaned forward, her dark eyes holding Jack's as sure as her arms would have if she'd been close enough. "Angus has had a rough start in life, but he has a family that cherishes him. He has a brother who would move mountains for him. Love like that can get a person through just about anything and despite this little patch of rough times, your boy is thriving. Don't' discount his incredible spirit."

Jack knew his grandmother spoke from experience. She'd had her own rough start, not to mention heartache as an adult. Her mother had died when she was a child, and she'd buried not only her father as a young newly married woman but lost her only son not so many years later. But Jack also understood she loved him fiercely and would do or say anything to make him feel better. It was what grandparents were good at, but Jack wasn't willing to let himself off the hook so easily.

"I shouldn't have gotten his hopes up about me coming home. I should have told him flat out weeks ago that it wasn't happening."

"Hope can be a cruel heartbreaker, but we are still the better for it. Life would be bleak without faith in the miraculous and I hate to break it to you, but Angus naturally bends towards the light, like a sunflower. He would have opened himself to the best possibility no matter what you'd have cautioned." Beth's eyebrow arched in the way it did when she was about to make a very important point. "Besides, Christmas is still over a week away and the last time I checked it didn't take these modern planes 10 days to make their way eight thousand miles."

"Nana…" Jack started, with a sigh. Mac wasn't the only eternal optimist in the family. He was set on reminding his grandmother that he'd had no luck on his request for leave, nor did he expect to. There was no miracle coming down the pipeline for him and Santa wouldn't be delivering him with a big red bow anytime soon but she was having none of it.

"Don't say it," Beth cut him off resolutely. "Unless you have developed the gift of divine prophecy without revealing such a blessing to me, then you have no way of knowing what possibility God could present. He is known to open doors when we least expect it."

"When Jesus shows up here in an Apache to exchange the satellite images and topographic maps of my current mission with a one-way ticket to Austin then I'll be apt to have a little more faith in one your miracles, Nana." Jack's tone was clipped and harsher than he meant and he could already see his Nana's wheels turning, the sermon bubbling, one that would no doubt warn against tempting the Lord and sassing his elders but any tongue-lashing-deserved or not-was put on hold by the sound of the kitchen door slamming and hurried feet on the hardwood floors.

Jack had his own bout of hope bubbling, anticipating seeing his grandfather and Mac appear, both red-cheeked and breathless from the cold snap they were having in Austin. Jack's grandmother had boasted it was a sunny 37 degrees that morning, which was frosty for Texas but still warmer than where Jack was currently, and couldn't contain her excitement for the chance of a rare snowfall on Christmas Eve. Unfortunately, no familiar face appeared alongside his grandmother, but instead a jean-clad leg made its way into Jack's view and a heavily accented voice Jack imagined belonging to one of the ranch hands but didn't recognize specifically reverberated through the speakers.

"Ms. Beth, there's been an accident at the barn. You need to come quickly."

The panicked tone had Beth standing immediately, dislodging the cat that pounced grumpily from the couch. Jack could only see the bottom of his grandmother's skirt now, the braided belt she always wore.

"Miguel? What's happened?"

"Nana?" Jack called, not liking the hint of fear he could hear in his grandmother's voice. It was like watching a movie scene that had been filmed when a camera had fallen, catching an angle that was of no interest or help to the viewer, but had somehow made it past the editing floor. Even if he couldn't see faces, now that he had a name Jack could picture Miguel, the burly wrangler with a silver goatee and trademark intricate bolo ties who'd been at the ranch for at least a decade.

"Your grandson took a tumble from the rafters. He's hurt."

"What about Mac?" Jack latched onto the computer without thought, his hands gripping both sides of the screen as his heart kicked into overdrive. If he could have climbed through the computer he would have, grabbing Miguel and shaking him until a more specific explanation tumbled out. As it was, Jack was left as helpless as any audience member in a theater, forced to listen without any real effect on the unhelpful cinematography. He couldn't even gauge how serious the fall might have been by the man's expression. Jack was left to pray he'd misheard, that his brother was fine and not anywhere near broken or bleeding or any of the other awful images assaulting Jack's fertile imagination. "Nana, talk to me, damn it!"

"Wyatt." Beth's face appeared in the screen as she quickly bent in front of the camera once more to catch his eye. Her fine features were pinched, the peaches and cream skin his grandfather loved to compliment her on, as white as the snow she was hoping for on Christmas. Jack could see the fear light in her eyes but the calm certainty that was telling of her stalwart grittiness was also present. "I've got to go, but I promise you I'll call you back as soon as I can. We'll take care of Angus."

"Nana, wait!" Beth didn't stop and Jack was left with the image of Dodger the piglet, who had sat up from his nap with a grunt and was looking almost as bumfuzzled and panicked at being abandoned and left out of the action as Jack. "Nana!"

"Wyatt, what's going on?" Boxer and a few more men from their unit entered the barracks just as Jack slammed his fist on the table, bouncing the computer and other things as the shabby piece of furniture balked under his assault.

"It's Mac." Jack stood, roughly twisting the scarf from around his neck, wishing he could unwind time so easily. He balled the wool up, throwing it on his bunk and regretting it lacked the mass of a baseball when there was no satisfying thud.

"Baby brother still pissed at you?" Box looked uncertain, his face twisted in confusion as he exchanged unsure glances with Coop. "I told you he'd get over it. By New Year…"

"He's hurt, Boxer." Jack snapped, pacing like a cage tiger as his mind quickly calculated every possible scenario that might score him a way to Austin. "Mac is hurt, damn it."

"Hold up." Boxer gripped his arm, Cooper closing ranks. "What do you mean Mac is hurt? What happened?"

"I don't know." Jack took a seat on the bed when the others cornered him to keep him in place. "I was on the computer with Nana when Miguel, one of my grandfather's ranch hands, came into to tell her Mac was hurt, that he'd fallen from the rafters in one of the horse barns."

"Shit, Tombstone, that sucks." Coop took a seat on the cot next to him. "But you know kid's practically bounce, man. If one of us took a ten foot header that's one thing, but anyone under 12 can pretty much defy gravity."

"He's right, Wy," Box agreed, crossing his arms over his chest. "There's even science to back that shit up. Something about their distribution of mass or something. Hell, Mac could probably rattle off the specifics for you, I'm sure."

"If he's able." Jack ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to let the reassurances of his teammates sink in, but all he could think about was the fact he nor Mac seemed to catch a break these days. As a rule of thumb he and his brother were by far more likely to have bad luck than good.

"Dude, we've fallen out of plenty of barns." Box gripped his shoulder and gave him a hard shake. "Remember that summer you broke your leg and not more than a week or so later I cracked my elbow."

"I don't think your trip down memory lane is helping, Box," Cooper said, when Jack's face paled at the memories. He could easily recall writhing in pain on the unforgiving barn floor, his leg twisted in an unnatural angle as his horse Damascus dropped his head over his stall to stare at the boy who'd just seemingly fallen from the sky to land not so softly on a fresh pile of hay.

"Mac's his kid brother, right?" Jack heard Clay Craddock, the most recent addition to their team inquire of Big Sal. The guy was a former Ranger, having come in while Jack was on leave during the summer. The two of them had hit it off right away, having similar backgrounds. Craddock was a southern boy, born and bred in Kentucky. As fate would have it, his father had also been killed in the line of duty, an injustice Jack could relate with easily. The two had bonded over an affinity for horses, Johnny Cash, and football.

"Yeah, but Tombstone has custody. He's the only parent the kid has." Sal answered quietly.

"Which is why I need to be home." Jack stood once more, determined more than ever that he was going to find a way to Mac if he had to steal a bird to get him there.

"Now hold up there, cowboy." Boxer once more blocked his way, the voice of reason to Jack's impulsive nature. "That's all Mac needs is for you to go and get yourself shot by an MP or court-martialed all for a bump and a bruise he'll have forgotten about by Christmas Day. Who'll take care of him then?"

"Boxer's right, Jack," Coop joined in. "How about you wait and find out how serious the kid is before you mount an outright AWOL."

"My gut's telling me this ain't some harmless tumble, Boxer." Jack raked both hands through his hair, knowing that his little brother was quite possibly seriously hurt and he was thousands of miles away from offering any kind of help.

Boxer's hand found its way to Jack's shoulder again, giving a hard squeeze this time. "If that's true then me and the boys will distract the MP's while you steal that bird you were considering taking. Hell, I'll even co-pilot."

Despite everything, Jack smirked. "You might be good with tanks and anything with wheels, Box, but we both know you'd suck as a co-pilot as your internal compass is cracked and your ADD kicks in as soon as we're off the ground and in the air. You're easily distracted by a gnat."

"That's why I stick to my strengths, one of which is procuring anything our little band of merry men might need." Boxer met Jack's gaze. "Cooper and I are going to go round us up a satphone. Calling JP or the hospital if necessary will be easier on that. Big Sal is going to go let Hammond know what's going on so he's in the loop and understands if his whole unit ends up in custody."

"I am?" Sal spoke up, eyebrows arched dramatically. "Why me?"

"Because he likes you."

Sal swore in Spanish, shaking his head. "Hammond doesn't like anyone."

"Well, he doesn't find you as annoying as he does the rest of us," Boxer reframed.

"That's because he doesn't understand half the shit Sal goes on with," Coop pointed out. "If the Cap was bi-lingual Sal would be on his shit list, maybe even in the stockade."

"Just do it," Box narrowed his gaze at Sal and Jack had to admire his old friend's ability to take command when needed, but Jack wasn't one to stay on the sidelines, especially in the middle of a crisis and a situation that involved his family.

"I'm not going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs, Box. Mac needs me." He hated the hint of palpable desperation in his tone.

"That's why, you're going to sit your ass down and see if you can find out what flights might be going out of Kabul. If we can get you that far, maybe there's an AMC charter you could pick up to Berlin." Boxer gestured to Jack's laptop. "You might want to check Kandahar, too while you're at it."

"Yeah." Jack ran a hand over his face, knowing Boxer was giving him some logical options for a plan of attack but he hated that any scenario he could imagine would take a couple of days to reach his brother. The helplessness he felt as reality sat in was nearly overwhelming.

Boxer took his admission as an all clear, as did Coop and Sal it seemed who followed him out of the tent, leaving only Jack and Clay, who had watched the scene with a sense of detached aloofness that Jack understood came from being the new guy.

"Don't think I expect you to be a part of any crazy getaway I might have to pull, Craddock." Jack gestured to where the other teammates had just disappeared. "I won't let them put themselves at risk either if I have to do something extreme."

"Hey man, I'm in for whatever goes down." Clay shrugged. "We're a team, right? If one of us is in trouble, the rest of us are in the same boat."

"I appreciate that, but this isn't exactly a mission."

"It's family, which is even more important."

"My family, my problem." Jack moved to the computer before the other man could disagree. He was grateful for the support, but the last thing he wanted was to put anyone else at risk. Leading men into battle was one thing, but charging into a situation that could mean a dishonorable discharge at best, jail time at worst was not something he could stomach.

Craddock followed him to the table. "You didn't tell me you had custody of your brother."

"It's still a little new to me." Jack opened the lap top once more, hoping connection held as he accessed the website he'd need. "It happened this summer while I was on leave."

"Not to be a nosy bastard but how'd that happen? I mean, I know your dad is gone, but what about your mom?" Clay leaned his hip precariously against the table shooting Jack a questioning glance.

"She died a few years back." Jack cleared his throat of the lump that still sprang to his throat at any mention of his mother. "Mac has a different dad, and he decided to pull his own AWOL in May leaving his ten year old kid behind."

"That sucks." Clay said with sincere feeling.

"Especially for Mac." Jack typed in the passwords required, linking up to the network. "He's left with some really awesome grandparents and a brother who might make it home on a permanent basis before he gets through middle school."

"I guess you joined up before you knew you were going to be stepping in as a parent."

"I joined up because I wanted to serve my country," Jack glanced at Craddock. It wasn't a cliché. Jack loved what he did. He wanted to serve and he was good at it, but there was also a deeper reason that had brought him to the Army in the first place. "And because I was on a bad road and needed a fresh start if I was ever going to be in a place to take care of my brother in case his old man flaked, which he did, albeit in a way I wasn't exactly expecting or with the best timing."

"There's other ways to serve your country, man," Craddock pulled another chair over, and spun it around, straddling it to sit. "You forget I've seen you out in the field. You love the action and damn if you're not hella good at it. It's as natural as breathing. You're one of the best snipers I've seen, pulling off shots that would baffle most. A man like you isn't going to be satisfied riding some desk or wearing a tie and working 9 to 5."

"For Mac, I could don some coveralls and keep grease under my nails." Jack knew he had a steady job at the bodyshop back in Mission City waiting for him. He could always pick up extra cash doing some work for Mama Colton both at the bar and with her bounty hunting business. "I'm a pretty good mechanic."

Craddock was quiet for a moment. "But your true calling is behind the scope of a rifle, or the stick of a bird."

"Sometimes we make sacrifices for the people we love." Jack growled deep in throat when the earliest flights to anywhere in Europe were the day after tomorrow. If Mac was seriously hurt that wasn't going to work. "Mac is my priority at this point."

"What if I told you there might be a way you could maintain that priority and still use your talents to serve the great U S of A." Craddock tapped the desk to claim Jack's attention. "It could also help with the ride back to the states."

"You going to tell me you got an Apache in your pocket and an F-4 Phantom or a Valkyrie waiting on standby to whisk me away."

"What I have is a job offer that could get you something better than a chopper and a plane capable of pulling six mach. It could get you out of the fucking desert for good."

"I don't understand." Jack furrowed his brow, studying his teammate with a fair mix of confusion and irritation. "What job offer?" He didn't have time to play games but from what he knew of Craddock it wasn't like the man to yank a brother's chain.

"We have a mutual friend, Jack, more of an acquaintance for you I suppose. She's actually the reason I found my way to Delta." Clay arched a brow. "The reason I've been watching you."

"Watching me?" Jack frowned, his Spidey sense tingling. "What the hell does that mean?"

"The people I work for aren't really in the habit of extending offers without a thorough knowledge of the potential employee." Craddock folded his arms over his chest, looking completely relaxed and confident in the light of just hinting to his being less than upfront about his assignment to Delta. "They like to have a personal and up close observation of what skills and assets one might offer."

"Who the hell is this mysterious lady who turned you onto me?" Jack wasn't sure what to make of Craddock's revelation. The idea that the other operator had been sent to watch Jack was as unnerving as all get out. If it hadn't been for the situation with Mac, Jack would quite possibly have had the guy against the wall with his hands around his throat, but then again, Craddock might have just taken advantage of the most opportune moment he could have hoped for to come clean.

"Matilda Weber," Craddock answered with a grin. "I believe your lovely girlfriend Sarah introduced the two of you this summer."

"The lawyer that helped push my paperwork on Mac through?"Jack's frown deepened. "And Sarah's not exactly my girlfriend, at least not anymore."

"That's okay because Matty's not exactly a lawyer."

"But Sarah is interning at her firm." Jack started, thrown by the unexpected turn in conversation.

"Sarah wasn't at law school these last couple of years, Jack. Well, at least not all of them. She has been interning for a much different career, although her analytical mind got her noticed, just like your skills made you stand out. Locking that girl away in a courtroom would be as bad as letting your talents go to waste under the hood of a car."

"I don't understand," Jack started only to have any explanation he might have gotten interrupted by Boxer and Coop's return.

"Jack, we got it." Boxer didn't seem to notice the look of baffled confusion on Jack's face or either he took it as a sign of distress because he quickly handed the satellite phone to his teammate. "Maybe try JP first. You know he always has his phone on him."

"Yeah, right." Jack took the phone, ignoring the way Craddock was grinning like a kid who'd just caught a glimpse of Santa under his tree. At the moment there were more pressing matters than what the hell kind of rabbit hole Jack had just fallen into, like the pressing feeling of fear that had once more presented front and center now that he'd been presented with the means to find out what had happened to Mac. He could deal with feeling like Alice in Wonderland after he knew what was happening with his brother.

"Did he have any luck with the flights?" Jack heard Boxer ask Clay as Jack focused on dialing his grandfather's number.

"I think he uncovered some options he wasn't expecting," Craddock answered cryptically. "In fact, he might have discovered his perfect ticket home."

Jack had a feeling that the last part of Clay's reply was meant solely for him.

 _ **"And a cliffhanger in a pear tree…."**_

To be continued…so sorry guys. I had hoped to have the entire thing finished, but have not had as much time as I had hoped. Will have the last chapter up soon as well as the next installment of 'Those We Gather Close'.

A/N/N: Just a little poem for all those who are sacrificing…

Creeping through the silent night,

Things that move are things of fright,

Sleigh bells never ringing now

Angels seldom singing now

Nothing comes to make their season bright.

Helicopters-guns and tanks

Moving now in guarded ranks,

Not a bit of Christmas cheer

That must wait 'til they're home next year,

Since their only present is your "Thanks."

Now with many flags unfurled

Boys and girls from 'round the world

Lift their voices-battle cry

Bound to win or bound to die

Brave young heroes all-to chaos hurled.

Here at home with Christmas cheer

In this fun time of the year,

Let's pause a bit from what we've planned,

Singing songs-with praises-and

Send a loving hug to soldiers dear.

Ring the bells and praise the Lord

For our soldiers' love outpoured,

Post their names upon your tree

AS they fight to keep us free.

Remember their gift forevermore.-

Ted L. Glines2


	2. Chapter 2

Defying Physics

By: Ridley James

A/N: First and foremost-thank you for all the kind and amazing comments from chapter one which I have not gotten around to responding to personally. They make me smile and warm my heart and get me to writing so much faster that is for sure. I will hopefully get to reply to each one as this busy year closes. I had hoped to have this story completely finished but it keeps growing as the characters demand a little more time together and I can't help but to indulge them because I am a sucker for Christmas. I hope you don't mind, but I knew I wanted to at least get another chapter before 2017 slips away! This fandom has made my year so very sweet, and even though the show has left me grumbling quite often, you all have given me so many smiles whether it be through your own stories or faithful reading. Happy New Year to you all.

RcJ

"A concussion? Surgery?" Jack practically yelled in the phone as panic swelled in his chest. His grandfather was the unfortunate messenger of the latest report from the ER. "What the hell, JP? An hour ago you told me this was a bump on the head and a minor broken arm at most."

" _I know that, Junior, but that was before the X-ray and scan came back. The break is near the growth plate and I said surgery was a possibility not a definite. It depends on whether they can manipulate the bones back together manually-whatever the hell that means."_

Jack could hear the stress in his grandfather's voice and knew the older man was no doubt taking on way more than his fair share of guilt, thinking Mac had gotten hurt on his watch. He'd already rehashed the horror of having just missed the fall, returning to the barn from the exercise ring where he'd been watching Miguel work with a colt to find Mac trying to pick himself up off the ground in one of the horse stalls. Jack wanted to assure JP that accidents happened and Mac was the one clamoring around in the rafters checking out the new air ventilation fan, but the spike of fear the likes of which he'd never experienced at that the words 'concussion' and 'surgery' when used in the same context with his little brother had curbed his ability for assurances.

"Do they need my permission if it comes to that? Can I talk to the doctor?" It wasn't that Jack didn't trust his grandparents. They had immeasurably more experience with children and ER visits. He probably gave JP half the gray hair in his thick salt and pepper locks considering the amount of times he'd found himself in trouble when he was Mac's age as he was always looking for adventure at the ranch and in the surrounding acres of forests, but Mac was Jack's brother and he didn't want to shirk his responsibilities during a medical emergency. He knew this wasn't some kind of test, but he couldn't help to feel as if he were already failing in his role as guardian.

" _Your grandmother has something in mind, but there's someone that needs to talk to you more than the doctor. You got that computer of yours nearby?"_

"Can you fire up the lap top?" Jack motioned to Boxer, who had stuck with him even after they'd reached JP on the sat phone and learned that Mac was a little banged up and shaken but was not seriously hurt. Crisis averted, hatching of Operation get Jack Home by any means possible no longer necessary for the time being, the others had gone onto chow, Coop taking Jack's place on the last patrol so the other operator could stay near the phone.

"I got your back, brother." Box started typing as Jack refocused on his grandfather.

"JP, did you get in touch with Harry? I know reception at the cabin is sketchy at best."

" _I did. He was going to cut his trip short and head here now instead of on the 23_ _rd_ _, but I convinced him to stay, that Mac was fine. If the kid has to go under the knife I'll get back with him. That may change his mind about staying put."_

"Yeah." Jack scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to take comfort in the fact Mac would be surrounded by people who loved him if he had to have surgery. Only Jack couldn't shake the feeling that he should be there, that it was his place to take care of the kid.

"I'm looking at a true Texas rose of a woman over here, Wyatt." Boxer interrupted Jack's internal critique of his role of Mac's pseudo parent thus far. "Even the ugly blond tumor attached to her side doesn't deflect from her rare beauty."

"Still the charmer, I see." Jack heard his grandmother say as he made his way across the room.

"You make it easy, Ms. Beth," Boxer responded, frowning at Jack when he nearly shoved him out of the seat so he could claim the chair in front of the desk.

"Hey." Jack's breath caught as he took in the view on the screen. His grandmother and brother were sitting up on a hospital bed, the typical surroundings of a curtained off examination area behind them. Beth gave him a reassuring smile. Mac was tucked close to her, seeming far too small and vulnerable in the setting. The ten year old had yet to look up, his gaze stayed focused on the blanket covering his lap, as he picked at a loose string.

"I think you can put the phone down now, Wyatt." Beth glanced to the side, presumably towards the entrance to where they were. "Your grandfather just graced us with his presence, without my coffee I might add."

"Woman," Jack heard his grandfather's booming voice through the phone and across the computer. "I can't multi-task worth a damn and you know it. If you want some coffee you're just going to have to come get it yourself-it's not like I can make it to suit you."

"I'm hanging up, JP." Jack said, glancing to Boxer who was snickering at the scene unfolding. JP and Beth had been forced to embrace technology once Jack had been deployed but they still didn't quite have the hang of it.

"Alright son," JP replied at the same time his face appeared on the screen, just behind Beth's shoulder. He still had the phone pressed to his ear, but had placed his other hand on Mac's shoulder. "Keep your head down. I have things covered here, don't you worry none."

"And by covered he means he's been stomping around like a bull in a shoot, snorting and huffing at all the nurses and doctors. I'm thinking he needs some caffeine more than I do and maybe a bite of lunch seeing as he missed his in all the excitement." Beth glanced to the little boy at her side. "Perhaps you could keep your brother company while we take a short break."

"That sounds great, Nana." Jack gave his grandmother a worried frown, which she returned with a tilted head and another encouraging smile.

"I'll see if I can round up Mac's physician, Doctor Handsome, while I'm at it."

"It's Hanson," JP corrected with a harrumph. He was no longer on screen but Jack could imagine his grandfather rolling his eyes and shaking his head as Beth's grin widened.

"Oh, that's right. _Hanson_. I'm sure it's a common slip of the tongue considering the young man is extremely easy on the eyes. He's very charming and charismatic as well. Like he just stepped from the screen of one of those medical dramas."

"You're going to make the boy throw up again, Beth." JP appeared on screen once more, placing a kidney shaped dish on the other side of Mac, who had yet to speak, but now that Jack was inspecting him closer did look a bit peaked. "How about you take it easy on your fawning until our poor grandson is feeling better."

"Our _grandsons_ will be just fine until we are back." Beth dropped a kiss atop Mac's head, giving Jack another meaningful glance before sliding from the bed and out of view. "You on the other hand might not fare so well if you keep snapping at me like some cross turtle snared from the pond."

"Hey, little brother." Jack said, once his grandparent's voices faded. He felt Boxer squeeze his shoulder, knowing the other operator was also taking Beth's cue to leave Jack and Mac alone.

"Hi, Jack." Mac glanced up, and Jack caught sight of the dark purple bruising that blotted the kid's cheek and disappeared beneath a flop of blond hair. His face must have struck the ground when he fell. The kid's right arm was enveloped in a temporary splint. The sight of the injuries had bile churning in Jack's gut.

He fought to keep the emotion from his voice and hoped like hell the panic didn't show on his face. "So, I hear you're going to be getting some fresh plaster for Christmas. Was that on your list because I'm pretty sure I didn't receive the revised edition?"

Instead of coaxing even a hint of a smile which had been Jack's aim, Mac's blue eyes filled. "I'm sorry."

"Hey now," Jack was quick to cut off the breathy apology, hating like hell that Mac was so obviously miserable and hurting. "It's not your fault. The clumsiness gene is totally mom's doing. She used to trip over her own two feet, and when I was going through basic, my nickname was giraffe, because I used to get tangled up in my long legs in every obstacle course."

"I mean for not talking to you, for being mad." Mac swiped the back of his uninjured arm across his eyes, sniffling.

"Dude, I don't blame you for being angry with me."

Mac's gaze locked with his. "I just wanted you to come home because it's Christmas and families are supposed to be together and I know daddy isn't coming back so..."

"I want to be with you more than anything, bud. Especially now." Jack wanted to make it very clear that he wasn't choosing to stay away like James, making a conscious decision to be absent when there was an option like showing up, but the truth was that Jack had signed on to do a job. His mission was to protect their country against any threat and to put the citizens of America above anything he wanted for himself. It sucked-especially for a little boy who didn't have a say in the matter- but it was a sacrifice Jack willingly made and as much as it broke his heart to see his kid brother disappointed he understood that it wasn't in his power to fix it or alter the circumstances all by Christmas morning. "You just have to know that I love you and I think about you every day. What's Nana always saying about holding people in your heart, how it's almost like…"

"Holding their hands." Mac finished sounding none too convinced. In fact an uncharacteristic rush of obvious distress had his voice going higher. "I know what Nana says, Jack. But I'm scared and I want you here. And not on some stupid computer. Bozer has his mom and dad, Riley has her mom. I want that, too. None of this is fair."

"Kiddo." Jack breathed, trying to control his own bit of anxiety as his brother grew more upset, rambling on with wants he knew Mac typically kept tightly compartmentalized along with a new set of issues obviously brought on by the current situation of being hurt and concussed. "I know this isn't fair to you, but…"

"My head hurts and my arm hurts." Mac had made it to his knees, holding his splinted limb to his chest, his face blanched by the effort. "I hate hospitals and I don't like needles and I don't want them to put me to sleep or cut me open because when they did mom's operation she never got up again and..."

"Come on, bud. Take it easy. Just calm down, okay. Sit back down and listen to me for a minute." Jack suddenly wished his grandmother and JP hadn't gone to the cafeteria, all too aware that he had no way of alerting a nurse or pushing a button that would bring help if Mac needed it. The irony of how useful to his brother he was in the current moment was not lost on him. He might as well have been some shimmering, see-thru hologram projected into the room without any hope of tangibly affecting anything. Jack ached to be able to hug the kid to him, run a hand over his hair and shush away all his fears like he used to when Mac was smaller. He kept his voice soft and soothing like when he was working with an injured horse.

"Please don't make me do it, Jack." Big fat tears slid down Mac's face now, his breath hitching. Jack's little brother was not a crier, had never been. He tended to shut down and lock his emotions away so this outward display of his pain and fear was a bit like a mightily swung sledgehammer striking Jack center mass. "My arm will be okay. Kid's bones are flexible. It's hard to break one and I didn't fall that far, maybe like ten feet at the most. You're always saying I have a hard head so my brain is fine."

"Angus." Jack's use of his brother's first name was paramount to throwing a bucket of water on the kid. He stopped talking, sitting back on his bottom, blinking his wet lashes owlishly. "It's okay. You're going to be okay. Have I ever let anything bad happen to you?"

"No." Mac said, quietly. "You're my big brother."

"Exactly." Jack sent up a silent thank you when the super smart kid didn't whip out a mental inventory of the actual things Jack hadn't been able to prevent or protect him from like losing both his parents, nearly being run down by a drunk asshole over the summer and now the header Mac had taken out of the barn. "I'm your big brother and I wouldn't let anyone do anything that was going to put you in danger. It's my job to look out for you-always. That means that I have to do what's best for you, even when that doesn't always sound like the best plan to you." Little did Jack know that in years to come he'd use this very reasoning to counter his brother's countless protests of his over protectiveness. He was just grateful that the explanation seemed to calm ten year old Mac if not exactly please him.

"For all we know, you won't need surgery. It might be that you just need a cast for a bit longer than usual." Jack knew it was wishful thinking, but at the moment he just wanted to say something to take away the terror he could see in the kid's frightened gaze. "Let's not go borrowing trouble. Okay?"

"Okay." Mac rubbed a hand at his eyes. He lowered his voice, Jack almost not catching the soft admission, "But I'm still scared."

Jack ran a hand down his face. "Of course you are, Mac. Falling on your head and busting a limb will do that to a guy."

"You're never scared," Mac said, emphatically. The pride Jack easily detected in the confident declaration had that lump climbing up the back of his throat again. He remembered thinking the same thing about his old man and hated to burst the kid's bubble. Mac continued on, "You're the bravest person I know. You face bad guys with guns all the time. You save people and keep your team safe."

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that you can't actually be brave unless you're really scared first?" Mac shook his head and Jack forced a grin that didn't match the emotions roiling around in the pit of his stomach. "I know that big brain of yours has been shaken around a bit so let me lay out the logic for you. If a guy didn't fear what he had to do, then it really wouldn't require him to be brave to actually go through with it. It'd just be another walk in the park."

"So, you get scared?" Mac bit his lip, still looking doubtful.

"Every day." Jack nodded. He didn't think it necessary to explain how fear had taken on a whole new meaning since Mac had come along, knowing that Jack was the one responsible for taking care of him. "Every day I'm here in the desert and especially on days when my little brother falls out of a freaking barn and I'm eight thousand miles away and don't stand one chance of catching him."

"If it makes you feel any better the statistical chances of you actually catching me even if you had been there are very low." Mac's mouth twitched, a hint of a dimple barely making an appearance. "It has to do with mass, acceleration and gravity but my head hurts too much to explain it to you."

"I can do without your lecture, bud, but just so you know Newton's laws don't really apply to the physics of what I'd do to save you." Jack smirked. "Big brothers totally have super powers that defy your tried and true mathematical equations and irrefutable scientific formulas."

"If that were actually plausible, wouldn't you be here right now?" Any hint of levity disappeared under Mac's excellent powers of deduction.

"Hey now, even Superman had his Kryptonite." Jack met the kid's gaze, hoping his eyes conveyed the sincerity of what he was professing. "I just happen to have Uncle Sam standing on my cape, or I'd be right by your side now."

Mac's gaze softened and he gave a slight nod. "You know what Nana Beth says about love having no real boundaries. I guess the typical laws don't apply either."

"She's a real smart lady that grandmother of ours." Jack nodded to the splint. "Maybe you should have her pen some of those prose on your plaster, maybe even paint a picture of your heroic big brother so you won't miss me so much."

"I don't think so." Mac rolled his eyes. "Having to wear a cast is bad enough without it being an ugly one to boot."

"Ha ha," Jack returned, feeling for the first time since he'd learned Mac was hurt that the huge anvil that had struck him had been eased away if only marginally so.

"And they don't actually use plaster much anymore," Mac continued, knowingly. "Fiberglass is lighter and more durable."

"Considering our luck, little brother, the more durable probably the better. Maybe they can do some fancy pattern, some tessellations even."

"You think?" Mac looked a bit more like himself as excitement temporarily replaced the pain dulling his blue gaze.

Jack's answer was cut off by the sound of voices in the background. Mac back-pedaled away from the computer, scrambling to the top of the bed as if he could avoid any medical interventions that might be coming his way. Jack felt a stab of protectiveness, an overwhelming need to offer more shelter than was possible.

"Hello, Angus."

Jack winced at the doctor's greeting, surprised when his brother didn't quickly correct the man with a knee-jerk 'it's Mac'. He was glad his grandfather stepped up to the plate as he heard JP explaining what his grandson preferred to be called.

"Then Mac it is." A new face appeared on the computer screen as the doctor had taken a seat on a rolling stool and brought it close to Mac's bed. Jack wasn't sure what he had expected but the older man with the wire-rimmed glasses wasn't meeting his grandmother's description. The guy looked more like Santa than he did some Doctor Dreamy from a hospital drama. He even sported a red lab coat and was wearing a garish green tie decorated with reindeer.

"Mac, this is Dr. Peterson. He's the orthopedic surgeon that Dr. Hanson asked to consult with your case." Jack's grandmother explained the incongruence, seeming to read Jack's thoughts as she reclaimed her seat on the bed beside Mac. She placed her arm over the little boy's shoulders drawing him closer to her in a supportive move Jack would have made if he'd been there.

"I understand we're having a video conference with someone pretty important as well." Dr. Peterson glanced towards the computer, giving Jack a quick nod but then refocused on Mac. Jack appreciated that the man wasn't talking over the kid. "Would you care to introduce me?"

"It's my brother, Jack." Mac sat up straighter, shooting Jack a glance before meeting the doctor's expectant gaze. "He's in the Army all the way in Afghanistan."

"So I understand." Dr. Peterson turned his complete attention on the computer screen. "It's an honor to meet you, Jack. Let me say thank you for your service, young man. Your sacrifice is greatly appreciated."

"You're welcome." Jack was always taken a bit off guard when people thanked him for doing his job, but his uncomfortableness was quickly forgotten as the doctor continued.

"And your family's sacrifice as well." Dr. Peterson patted Mac's leg. "I happen to understand a little bit about that as my daughter is currently a marine stationed in Japan. She'll be having sushi this Christmas instead of her mother's turkey surprise. The surprise is always whether the bird will actually be edible."

Peterson's joke drew a smile from Mac and Jack decided he liked the man.

"I'd never tell my wife this," he continued in a hushed tone. "But I'm a bit jealous of my daughter's dinner plans and I don't even like sushi."

"You can come to our house," Mac offered generously. "Nana Beth is the best cook this side of the Mississippi and her farm table can seat all the hands on the ranch."

"My grandson is exaggerating just a tad." Beth blushed, but Jack could tell she was pleased by the praise. "Both about my culinary skills and our table."

"Don't let her humbleness fool you, Doc." JP's voice resounded off camera. "Beth's baking is legendary all the way to the Mason-Dixon Line, and she somehow makes sure there is room enough for everyone."

"We also have horses at the ranch. And dogs, too. We even have a baby pig named Dodger." Mac continued, his earlier trepidation momentarily replaced by pointing out all the things he considered points of interest about their grandparent's home.

"I have heard The Narrow Path Ranch provides the best riding stock around." Dr. Peterson nodded seriously. "And some prize winning racers as well."

"Really?" Mac and Jack voiced at the same time, only to have Beth give a huff and roll her eyes.

"Only because your grandfather needs a big old slice of humble pie. He talked poor Dr. Peterson's ear off on the elevator ride when we should have been discussing our poor grandson's condition."

"I'm going to take that as my cue for us to get back on topic." Dr. Peterson winked at Mac. "I have a feeling I wouldn't want to rile your grandmother."

"It's best not to, Doc." Jack spoke up, only to be backed up by an 'amen' from his grandfather. While he appreciated the physician's bedside manner, especially considering most surgeons he'd had the misfortune of encountering were not the most congenial in the medical world, Jack was also anxious to get the rundown on what they'd be facing-or more importantly what Mac would be facing without him.

"Then let's get to it as I'm sure Mac has some Christmas festivities he'd like to get back to." Dr. Peterson folded his arms over his chest looking from his patient to Jack. "After studying Mac's x-rays I agree with Dr. Hanson's initial findings. Because the fracture is more complicated due to its location near a growth plate, I think an open reduction would be our best bet in realigning and stabilizing the break while Mac heals."

"So, that means surgery?" Jack asked, his heart sinking as he caught the look of dread on his brother's face.

"I know that can be a frightening word, but the procedure is a simple one, one I have done more times than I can remember." He looked at Mac now. "My surgical prowess is also known clear to the Mason-Dixon. I was once called in to consult on a surgery for Terry Bradshaw."

Jack heard his grandmother's quick intake of breath at the mention of the infamous Pittsburgh Steeler's quarterback and had to give a laugh at his earlier joke about bad luck. He shook his head. "Doc, you would have impressed Mac a lot more if you'd performed surgery on Bill Nye the Science Guy and might not have lost all your credibility with my grandmother as well as your invitation to Christmas Dinner for treating a mortal enemy."

"Who's Terry Bradshaw?" Mac asked, perplexed, which was a whole lot better than scared out of his mind.

"Someone who shall not be named," Beth declared, seriously.

"Like Voldemort?" Mac asked.

"Precisely." Beth acknowledged, having been a huge 'closet' fan of Harry Potter as the wizardry and witchcraft highlighted in the popular novels were frowned upon by her much loved Sunday school class, but well-received by the book club that met at her house on the first Monday of every month.

"Then perhaps I should not mention any other of my sport affiliations and reassure you that I have every confidence that Mac's injury will heal and won't cause any lasting issues as he grows, barring any more tumbles from horse barns, that is."

"When?" Jack asked, knowing the time didn't really matter as nothing short of one of his grandmother's miracles was going to have him present for the procedure. The thought of Mac being frightened and waking up from surgery without him there was almost more than he could process.

"I was thinking the day after tomorrow. I'd like to give time for the swelling to subside a bit. And that still allows Mac a couple of days to recuperate before Santa shows up." The surgeon looked from Jack back to his patient. "Seeing as how your grandmother also bent my ear singing your praises, young man, I imagine you'll be getting everything on your list and I want you in tip top form to enjoy them."

"Not the thing I want the most." Mac mumbled, shooting Jack a look that was both forlorn and a bit accusing as if any ground they'd gained in their earlier conversation had now fallen away, leaving a gaping expanse Jack was not accustomed to having between them.

"So," Jack cleared his throat, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "Mac goes home now and comes back for an outpatient procedure in two days? What about the concussion?"

"Mac can probably expect to have a headache for a few days. Some acetaminophen should help with that. He may have some dizziness and be a bit more lethargic than usual but Dr. Hanson assured me he doesn't see any reason that we need to hold off on the procedure."

"I have a reason," Mac spoke up. "I don't want to have surgery."

"You don't have a choice, kid," Jack interjected quickly before anyone else could speak. He was all for Mac taking his part, but also knew that once Mac got something in his head he wasn't one to let it go. Sort of like a spirited horse who took advantage of any slack, Jack was quick to reign his brother in.

It still didn't stop Mac from turning his best doe eyes on their grandmother. "I'll just have some of Nana's chicken noodle soup. It can cure anything."

"Although I imagine your grandmother's soup is quite wonderful, I can guarantee you that it will not be able to align your broken bone in a suitable fashion that will allow you to do things like throw a football or swing a baseball bat."

"I can live with that. I'm not big on sports," Mac countered. Jack sighed as he quickly recognized the stubborn challenge in his brother's defiant features. Now was not a time he wanted the kid to test boundaries. He worked hard at keeping his own temper in check as the stress of the situation flared on already frayed nerves.

"This isn't a decision you get to weigh in on, bud," Jack said, a tiny part of him wishing it was also a decision he didn't have to make. More than anything he longed to once more be the big brother who could commiserate with the kid, who consistently took his side, while his dad and their mom were forced to play the responsible parental unit that often painted them as the bad guys.

"So what else is new," Mac snapped. "No one cares what I want, especially not you."

"Angus," Beth said softly, attempting to run her hand over the boy's hair.

Mac pulled away, keeping his now furious eyes locked with Jack's. "You promised mom to take care of me, but since you also promised her you'd never join the military and go away like your dad I shouldn't be surprised you'd lie to her again."

Jack was momentarily caught off guard and rendered temporarily speechless by the vitriol in his kid brother's words and the cunning with which he wielded them as a defensive weapon. He knew they were coming from a place of hurt and fear and that the anger was justified and had probably been building a long damn time, but it was hard to filter the quick sharp pain and sting of the truth they brought through a lens of detached logic or even an understanding born of more love than Jack could ever possibly express.

"That's enough, son." JP's deep voice was gentle, but firm. It left no room for Mac to question whether it was command or request. Like countless strong-willed horses that had been brought around by JP Dalton, Jack watched his brother come back to himself, remember who he was and that there was no reason to be acting a fool and lashing out at those trying to help him. The anguish that flooded the ten-year-olds blue gaze then along with undeniable guilt for what he'd said along with a wash of tears delivered another heart breaking blow to Jack.

"Jack," Dr. Peterson's voice broke the tension filled moment and Jack tore his focus from his brother long enough to look at the physician. "I'm going to get the necessary paperwork emailed to you and if you have any further questions I'll be available to answer them."

"Thank you," Jack nodded, swallowing, thickly. "I'll be in contact soon."

The doctor's sympathetic smile was almost Jack's undoing, his torrid of emotions all too close to the surface. When he returned his focus to Mac, he found his brother cocooned within a blanket, buried against their grandmother's side, only the very top of his blond head visible.

"It's alright, Wyatt." Beth patted the lump that was Mac even as she held Jack's gaze. "Everything will be just fine. It's Christmas after all, the time for miracles. You boys will see. Things are going to work out."

"And if your grandmother's hotline to Jesus isn't as clear as she hopes, I'll make sure to see that things are handled on this end, kiddo." JP had taken position on the other side of Mac's hidden form. "You just concentrate on getting back to us in one piece. You have one job, Jack. That's it. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you, granddad." Jack somehow managed a half grin. He wanted to offer something to Mac, knowing the kid could hear him even if he'd effectively hidden himself away, and understanding that once their connection was lost Mac was going to feel horrible, thinking he'd hurt his brother and might not get a chance to make it right. But Jack was batting zero and could think of nothing that might offer one damn bit of comfort, so he signed off with the only thing that was true, the one thing that made it impossible to not say something. The only words that really mattered in the grand scheme of things. "Love ya, Mac."

Jack closed his computer, feeling a bit like he'd been through the emotional ringer. It wasn't what he was expecting his life to be at twenty-five. Then again, he hadn't planned on losing his mom to cancer or his step-father having some sort of mid-life crisis and bailing on them either. Mac might have meant his words to be barbs, the only means he could manage at maintaining even a modicum of control in a situation that was spiraling, but that didn't make them any less true.

He _had_ promised his mom he wouldn't join the military. Jack only hoped she would understand that he had done so to fulfill the more important vow of taking care of Mac. Only now that choice Jack had made seemed to be in direct conflict with what Mac needed most-which was him-present and accounted for. The desire to make it right drove Jack from his barracks in pursuit of Clay Craddock. The man had mentioned a way out for Jack- a job. Jack's grandmother had warned him that a man couldn't always protect the people they loved, but Jack had to at least try. If it meant jumping blind into a world Jack had not imagined, then so be it. His Nana couldn't fault him one bit. It was her who'd always encouraged him to never fear taking a huge leap of faith, especially if it was one inspired by love.

To be continued….


	3. Chapter 3

Defying Physics

By: Ridley

A/N: So sorry this was not finished much sooner. Sometimes it seems to take me forever to get to the end of a story and I appreciate your patience. I hope this long chapter makes up for the wait. I also hope each and every one is having an amazing new year. Thank you to each and every review and comment on this story. As long as you're reading, I'll do my best to keep writing. As usual, Boxer and Mike Briar belong to Gib who graciously lets me include them in this world. Thanks to Mary, who talked me off a ledge a time or two while trying to finish this up and reigned me in on the sappiness(if there is too much sweetness still-it is entirely my fault). If not for her, it might have been next Christmas before it was ready to go. PS-I was glad nature complied and showed that I wasn't taking great creative liberty and that it actually does indeed get extremely cold and snowy here in the South every now and then so my backdrop for Texas was much more believable. Shamefully, it is true that six mere inches of snow is enough to throw us into quite a tizzy.

RcJ

The snow swirling down from the night sky like so much sparkling confetti as Jack climbed out of the taxi was a novelty. He'd known it to happen a few times in Austin but it never amounted to much and he was quite certain he'd never experienced a white Christmas quite like this one. Now the snow piled against the wooden posts at the entrance to The Narrow Path Ranch, sticking to the sprawling oak trees like carefully applied vanilla frosting. Strands of twinkling lights ran the length of the winding fence that led to the house looking a bit like a runway for any errant planes or perhaps a landing strip for Santa's sleigh. A massive wreath hung from the iron awning with the circle 'D' that had greeted visitors since Jack's grandparents had owned the land, making the place look as pretty as a scene from a Christmas card. Jack had never been so glad to be home.

He paid the driver, waving off the man's offer to drop him at the house. Jack needed the time it would take him to walk the long, meandering drive to sort out just what he was going to tell his family. They weren't expecting him and especially not to turn up at 11:30 on Christmas Eve night, like some surprise homecoming from a Hallmark holiday commercial. Jack knew they'd be overjoyed. The gifts he'd hurriedly picked up and had wrapped at the airport would pale in comparison to his presence, but he also knew they'd want answers, answers he wasn't able to give.

Jack tossed his bag over his shoulder, pulling his jacket tighter around him as the wind picked up. He was once more grateful for the scarf and hat his grandmother had sent him as the one drawback of the enchanting scene was that it was freaking cold. The taxi driver had excitedly told Jack it was 31 and the light snow was predicted to keep coming throughout the night and into the next morning. Luckily, Jack hadn't had to worry about flights, arriving via a private plane just as Craddock had promised. Apparently the Central Intelligence Agency was serious about wooing Jack on board.

As Jack's feet crunched along the path he remembered his initial surprise and then the accompanying doubt when he'd tracked Craddock down and demanded to know exactly what in the hell the man had been going on about. Turns out the CIA was in need of men like Jack, men who were skilled with a gun, but who were also stable enough to carry out the kinds of orders that might push others over the invisible line between talent and madness. As Matilda Weber had pointed out to him the next day when she showed up in Kabul, there was only a subtle shade difference between an accomplished sniper and a serial killer. The CIA wanted the former not the latter. The formidable woman sure as hell wasn't the savior in an Apache that Jack had smarted off to his grandmother about but she had brought Jack the rescue and resources he'd needed at a time when he wasn't about to look too hard at the glittering gift before him, even if it might just turn out to be anything but.

Being recruited by a spy agency wasn't something Jack saw in his cards. He was a good old Texas boy, a soldier first and foremost. Of course Jack had watched countless James Bond movies but wasn't sure his cinematic viewing qualified him to take on such a role or assured he was cut out for a tux and an Aston Martin. It would have been like saying ten year old Wilt Bozer was prepared to fight aliens and fly a space shuttle to Mars considering the amount of science fiction movies he watched. Although, Jack had to admit the Bond Girls would have been a welcomed perk to any job.

A vibration in his jacket pocket had him abruptly stopping his trek. He'd almost forgotten about the new cell phone that Craddock had handed him when they'd parted ways at the airport with a promise to be in touch soon. Jack hadn't expected it to be within the hour and he was almost afraid to answer it for fear the past few days had been some kind of elaborate reuse and the person on the other end was going to be Hammond, wanting to know what in the hell did he think he was doing abandoning his post and going off with a bunch of suits.

"Dalton." Jack fought back his irrational fear and tried to pull off a nonchalance he didn't feel.

" _You looking over your shoulder for the MP's yet, Tombstone? Briar and I have a bet going on how long it takes for reality to set in and for you to freak. Frankie's already out because he said after what we just pulled off the newbie wouldn't even have the balls to answer the phone."_

Jack shook his head at the cocky voice on the other end. He had in fact been looking over his shoulder since leaving the airport. "Craddock, you tell Sutton I said Merry Christmas, and by that I mean screw him. That goes for you and Briar, too."

" _Since you just won me some spending cash, I'll let that disrespectful comment go."_

"The fact that I saved you and your team's ass didn't earn me some leeway?" Jack had been surprised when the metaphorical ink on the contract he'd signed with Matilda Weber hadn't even dried before he was whisked out of Kabul on a jet headed for Turkey. He continued to walk towards the house in the distance, noting his grandfather had gone all out on the lights as usual. It was as bright as Vegas shimmering in the desert of Nevada like some too good to be believed mirage.

" _Hey, I got you back to your precious Texas on Christmas Eve with time to spare and in case you missed it, you are part of this team now so any ass saving is covered in your paycheck. I'm guessing you're in front of a fire warming your toes and drinking eggnog like you're in some Bing Crosby flick?"_

"Almost, but not quite." Jack laughed, looking at the snowy scene around him. The landscape glowed a silvery blue and he couldn't help but to feel a moment of panic as if it might all shift, and he'd find himself transported back to the desert. He still couldn't quite believe the events of the last three days. Hammond had warned him-repeatedly-that the CIA didn't mess around. Even though they had the word 'intelligence' in their title, they were often lacking such. He swore that the agency had their fingers in pies that no one ever imagined and that although slick and refined on the surface, they were as down and dirty and cutthroat as some of the rebels and crazy-ass dictators he'd dealt with in numerous third world countries. Hammond wanted Jack to understand that the CIA would do whatever it took to accomplish their end goal, and if he did anything to mess with that, then they were just as likely to end him.

" _I hope your little brother has a good Christmas. Having you home should be a hell of a memorable present."_

Jack was brought from his musings by the mention of Mac. Clay sounded sincere and Jack wanted to believe the man was on the level, but he'd seen the guy's acting skills and his chameleon-like ability in Turkey when he'd donned a waiter's uniform and served the elite crowd at one of Istanbul's high-end restaurants. The man's Turkish was flawless, as was his knowledge of wine and his charm, convincing their high valued and reclusive target to take the table by the window instead of his preferred setting in the back.

" _You still there, Dalton?"_

"I'm here." Jack cleared his throat, picking up his pace a bit as the cold seemed to permeate his jacket and layers of clothes to settle uncomfortably into his bones. "Just still getting acclimated to the whole idea of being a part of a different organization. I've been a soldier for most of my adult life and…"

" _And now you're going to see all that hard work pay off. Like I told you, there are other ways to serve your country that don't require you to constantly be digging sand out of your shorts and dodging shrapnel. You passed the last test with flying colors. You're in the accelerated program now. After some training, you are going to be working jobs that any twenty-five year old would only dream about and that will make you forget all about the hell that was Afghanistan."_

"When exactly will that training start?" Jack asked with some amount of dread. He looked to the sky, blinking away the thick flakes of snow that stuck to his lashes. He was pretty sure nothing could make him forget all he'd been through in the war, he just hoped he wouldn't be experiencing anything worse than what he'd endured in Afghanistan.

" _You'll be heading to Camp Peary soon enough my friend but like Matty and I promised, you'll have time with your family and your time away on missions won't be anything like it was with Delta."_

Jack tried to focus on the last part and not the non-specific time-line of when he'd begin his stint with the Clandestine Service Division at "The Farm" in Williamsburg. He'd survived Special Forces training. How hard could an ultra-secret spy boot camp be?

"So that means you'll be in touch." If nothing else the military had prepared him for the 'need to know' line of bullshit. He raked a hand over his face, still not liking being left to the whim of superiors but willing to bite the bullet for his family.

" _You got it."_

"This phone isn't going to self-destruct or anything is it?" Jack forced a chuckle, only half joking but Craddock burst out laughing.

" _Are you kidding? That phone is how we're tracking your whereabouts and keeping a tab on what you say and do, Mr. Briggs."_

"Then maybe I'll be the one destroying it." Again, Jack was half serious, but Craddock's catching his reference to Mission Impossible and returning with one of his own eased his anxiety a bit. The man and his team were nothing like Boxer and the other boys Jack served with and considered his brothers, but he wanted to believe they could forge some kind of camaraderie. He was pretty much wired to make connections and needed to do so to give what he was doing some purpose beyond mere orders and his government's agenda.

" _Keep the phone, man. It's safe. And believe me, if Langley wants to reach out and touch you, they don't need an open line to do it."_

"I'll remember that."

" _Instead of worrying about being disavowed before you even start, how about you ruminate on the fact that what you pulled off yesterday set back terrorist activity in the mid-east more than half the skirmishes you've led in the Sandbox. Impossible Missions Force has nothing on our team. Your old man would be proud, Jack. You should be too."_

Jack wasn't so sure his dad would approve of him putting a bullet in a guy's head as he dined on lobster and champagne with his business partners even if said guy was one of the top arms dealers and money launderers in the Mid-East. Jack Dalton Sr. spent his entire career piloting rescuing missions. He was in the business of saving lives, not ending them with a single sweet shot from a sniper's rifle.

"Right, man." Jack finally found his voice, the need to seek refuge from the storm inside his grandparent's home more pronounced than ever. "I'll do that."

Jack cut the connection before Craddock could comment further, keeping his focus on the warm glow spilling out of the front windows of the ranch house before him. The welcomed light soothed away the knots in his gut, piercing the darkest recesses of his mind where he'd shoved all those worries about what he'd signed on for in such a haste. Hammond had cursed a blue streak when Jack had quickly made his decision and Boxer recanted a whole list of worst case scenarios including one where Jack was going to become a convenient scapegoat for their government. But despite their well-meaning worries, and Jack's own concerns about being nothing more than a sanctioned assassin, Jack was home. _Home._ It was Christmas. Just beyond the heavy wooden door holding a fresh pine wreath twined with berries and twigs of holly was his family-his little brother. That made whatever price he paid in the future seem like a pittance.

By the time Jack climbed the last of the snow-covered stairs of his grandparent's front porch he'd almost convinced himself he had been gifted with one of his grandmother's bona fide Jesus-inspired miracles instead of making a deal with the devil himself. He knocked on the door, hoping that the soft sound of music he could hear now was a sure sign one of his grandparents was up, or maybe Harry as he strained to hear the song playing and noted the distinct rumbling voice of Ella Fitzgerald.

"Did you forget something?" JP asked as he pulled the door open, his black Labradors Reggie and Reeves rushing forward ready to tackle the welcomed visitor.

The smell of cinnamon and evergreen wafted to Jack as a rush of warmth greeted him from the house wrapping around him as tangible as the dogs now bumping and brushing against his legs in barely contained euphoria. He found himself rendered speechless, his eyes stinging as his grandfather did a double take, looking as shocked as Jack had ever seen him. In fact, Jack momentarily worried that maybe he should have called as JP took a faltering step forward, practically stumbling over the gleeful dogs in his path.

"Jack? What the hell are you doing here, son?"

"Merry Christmas, Grandpa." Jack managed and was taken aback when the older man caught him in a fierce bear hug. The scent of Old Spice and hay had Jack dropping his bag and wrapping his arms around his grandfather, gripping the soft worn folds of JP's flannel shirt and holding on for all he was worth.

"That it is, kiddo." JP laughed. After a long moment he pulled back, but kept his hands on Jack's shoulders. His gray eyes were bright and Jack was afraid the old man might shed a tear or two, something that wasn't unheard of but that was typically reserved for letting go of loved ones and heartbreaking Dallas Cowboy losses. "You had me worried sick when you didn't call the day of Mac's surgery. We didn't know what had happened, and when Boxer got in touch with us instead of you-well, I'm not going to tell you what I thought. All he could say was that you that you were on an assignment."

"I'm sorry, JP." Being out of touch during Mac's surgery was one of the many things Jack had questioned about the last minute operation he'd been asked to join with Craddock's team. There was no communications allowed and the time line had sucked. It tore him up but Boxer had promised him he'd make contact with JP and Beth and let Jack know how the procedure went, but that had been limited to one email to a secured server that was then relayed to Jack via Matilda Weber. 'Blondie is all good.'

"Stop apologizing and tell me how this is possible?" JP's eyes darted over Jack's shoulder to search the darkness.

"I promise I'm not being trailed by a unit of MP's, grandpa." Jack laughed. "I'm here legitimately, but can I explain after we go in? It'd be a shame for me to dodge those damned insurgents and come all this way to freeze to death on the front porch."

"I thought you were your grandmother and Harry. You just missed them." JP explained as he grabbed Jack's bag before the younger man could protest. He ushered his grandson inside, waiting for the dogs to clamber along before following.

"Where's Mac?" Jack asked, shaking snow from his shoulders and toeing out of his wet boots to leave them by the door.

"Your little brother pulled the broken arm card and is sound asleep." JP closed the door as Jack bent to make a fuss over the labs who were still clamoring for his attention.

"Beth insisted on going to midnight mass despite the weather and conned Harry into taking her, claiming that he knew better than I did how to master driving in the snow as he had spent a whole week in the wintry badlands of Colorado." JP shook his head, giving a roll of his eyes. "We both know Harry probably didn't leave that damn cabin and I could have kept my truck between the ditches in any storm but she was bound and determined to get Harry into church-even if it is a Catholic service."

"Harry MacGyver at church on Christmas Eve?" Jack rubbed Reeves' ears as Reggie rolled on his back to plead for a belly rub. "And here I was thinking I was going to be the Christmas miracle Nana had been praying for."

"Miracle my butt." JP snorted. "The old scamp capitulated awfully fast let me tell you, even agreeing to wear one of my ties, which made me think he just wanted out of helping me put together Mac's telescope and other bazillion gadgets from Santa that should require an engineering degree from MIT to assemble."

"And you didn't object to being left alone with the task because you were just fine with staying here partaking in your favorite Irish Coffee and Christmas Eve cigar as you tried to figure it all out without one look at the instructions." Jack patted each dog once more and then stood. Usually it was Jack and Mac that Beth took to church. Jack's grandmother, despite her Southern Baptist upbringing had embraced some of her husband's Catholic heritage, picking and choosing the parts she loved best. Christmas Mass was one of the traditions she favored, along with a bevy of Saints she'd developed a particular affection for.

"Damn, can you smell the Cuban?" JP tugged at his shirt, sniffing as he looked around guiltily. He'd led the way into the living room, dropping Jack's bag near the leather couch. "Your grandmother has a better nose than these two." He gestured to the dogs who had found their way to their beds nestled near the large Christmas tree glowing like a beacon in the corner. "When it comes to sniffing out anything she thinks is bad for me, the woman is like a bloodhound."

"I think you're safe." Jack slipped out of his coat, placing it on JP's favored recliner, which he noted had been displaced from its usual spot near the fireplace by the tree that seemed to take up half the room. The pine behemoth was covered in tinsel and garland and countless ornaments that if they could have talked would have told stories of celebrations throughout several generations. Jack had brought one of the paper snowflakes Mac had sent him and even a rifle cartridge and beer cap from his tree in Kabul to add to his grandmother's prized collection. He grinned at his grandfather. "The only thing I can smell is cinnamon, clove and that monster of a Douglas Fir that looks like it might have taken a crane to situate."

"Try ten ranch hands and even then I needed to pay a visit a chiropractor the next day. It's like Christmas exploded in here." JP ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair. "In your grandmother's words 'Go big or go home'. We'll be sweeping up pine needles until Easter."

"I'll take pine sap over sand any day of the week." Jack pulled off his hat and tossed it with his jacket. "I'm just glad to be home."

JP propped his hands on his hips, a slight frown tugging the tips of his silver mustache down. "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Jack Jr, but how about you explain to your old grandfather how you managed that bit of Christmas magic. The last time I checked Uncle Sam wasn't really big on fulfilling wishes or doling out spontaneous leaves without a damn good reason for doing such."

"Can I check on Mac first? I just want to see for myself that he's okay." Jack glanced towards the stairway that would take him to the second story of the old rambling farmhouse. He turned his eyes back to JP, hoping his sincere desire to see his kid brother overrode the trepidation of explaining what he'd done. "Maybe you could whip me up one of those Irish Coffees and some of Nana's cookies while I'm gone? I'm starved."

"I can do that." JP reached out, gripping the back of Jack's neck before he could move away. He pulled him in close so their foreheads almost touched. "No matter how you pulled this off, it's so damn good to see you. I missed you, boy."

"I missed you, too, Grandpa." Jack barely got the words out past the lump that had settled in the back of his throat once more. He had to blink quickly to erase the wash of tears that threatened his eyes.

JP gave him a slight shake and then let him go with a rough pat to his cheek. "Now go check on your brother while I get us some Christmas spirit in a cup."

The dogs padded after Jack, their nails clicking on the stairs as they trailed behind him. Jack's gaze fell to the pictures that adorned the wall leading to the second story. It was as diverse a menagerie as the ornaments on the tree. Some faces he knew only through stories, family members like JP's mother and Beth's father, who'd passed on way before he was born but seemed achingly familiar. His parent's wedding picture gave him pause, as did the one of his father from the day he graduated the Air Force Academy. Jack once more considered his most recent actions as Jack Dalton Senior's dark eyes seemed to follow his ascent. If nothing else, Jack knew his old man would understand the desire to put family first. He'd been as loyal as the day was long and that was the hope Jack held to and comforted himself with as he cleared the last step and made his way to Mac's door.

Jack gave the dancing dogs a quiet command to sit and stay, knowing they'd tumble in making themselves at home on Mac's bed if given the chance. He could see the barely restrained anticipation and read the intent in their wagging tails and goofy Labrador grins. Jack put a finger to his lips as if his two canines would understand the need to be quiet before he opened the door and peaked inside.

There was a much smaller scaled version of a Christmas tree on Mac's nightstand, glowing with enough lights to cast the boy's sleeping form in perfect clarity. The lump returned to Jack's throat as he took in the kid, arms and legs akimbo, quilt kicked to the bottom of the bed as usual. Beth was fond of saying Mac slept like a cat in a paper bag and Jack imagined it was because his brother's over-active brain never quite shut off even in slumber.

He fought the urge to cross the room to the old sleigh bed and cover his brother back up, also holding off on the irrational desire to lightly place a hand on Mac's chest to make sure there was a steady rise and fall. The kid shifted, slinging his casted arm over him with enough force to have his bedmate Dodger the piglet wisely moving to the bottom of the bed with a startled grunt and Jack quietly closed the door. He needed to talk to his grandfather before he tackled explaining things to the ten year old.

"Come on, guys," Jack whispered to his disappointed companions, patting his leg when the dogs stayed where they were looking longingly at the closed door. The word 'treat' got them moving, following Jack back down the stairs and into the kitchen where JP was sitting at the farm table.

"Your boy alright?" His grandfather had a steaming mug in hand and had placed another across from him. Jack was grateful JP had left the overhead light off, the radiance of the recessed bulbs above the sink bouncing off the walls of sunshine yellow provided enough illumination to see by and wouldn't make Jack feel as much like he was caught in the spot light of an interrogation room.

"Sleeping like he doesn't have a care in the world," He said as he took a couple of cookies from the 'dog only' jar and tossed them to the waiting labs.

"To be ten again." JP lifted his mug. "These days I need a shot of whiskey to get even four hours of shut eye."

"Funny I remember you having that habit back when _I_ was ten." Jack smirked at his grandfather, taking a seat on the bench across from him. The older man denied nothing, but merely shoved the plate of cookies toward Jack's side of the table as if hinting he do something else with his mouth besides back talk. Jack took the subtle suggestion, picking up one of the snickerdoodles. "Mac looks no worse for wear. The surgery went okay? His follow up was good news?"

"He came through with flying colors." JP nodded, giving Jack a look that relayed he knew what his grandson was really asking. "I won't lie and say the boy wasn't upset about not talking to you again after the way he ended things with you earlier, but you know your brother. All closed off and quiet about whatever he was thinking. He didn't say a peep to us, which had your grandmother tied in fifty kinds of knots. I think she baked ten dozen cookies and gave the house the best cleaning it's had since my mother was alive and used to drop in for unexpected visits which Beth swore were actually surprise inspections of her domestic duties. We could probably have our guests take Christmas dinner off the bathroom floor tomorrow and be just fine."

"How's Mac doing with that cast?" Jack asked, not wanting to dwell on the anxiety he'd caused his brother and subsequently his grandparents as well. He picked up another cookie from the plate, even though his appetite had dwindled in light of the forthcoming explanation he owed his grandfather.

JP took a drink of his coffee, eyeing his grandson over the rim. "First two days seemed to bother him some, but now I think he's mostly forgotten about it, that is until he knocks something over or accidentally cracks one of the dogs across the head with it."

Jack smiled, swallowing the mouthful of cookie which tasted a bit like cardboard, a fact he knew had nothing to do with his grandmother's recipe and everything to do with guilt. "Dodger's living dangerously sleeping with him I think."

"Dodger is smarter than he looks. He's still roaming in the house after your grandmother swore she was going to ban him to the barn or maybe fry him up for breakfast in a whole mess of sausage links. He has Mac doting on him like he's some twenty pound hairless kitten." JP took another sip of his coffee and sighed. "Don't worry about that wiley swine, son. Dodger will be underfoot for the next twenty years like the other beasts your grandmother drags home."

" _She_ keeps bringing them home, huh?" Jack grinned, picking up his coffee, enjoying the smell of the rich brew and warm feel of ceramic in his hands, a far cry from the tin cups and sludge he was used to. "I thought she told me you rescued Dodger from certain doom."

"So, you were going to tell me how you came to find yourself here in Texas, some ten thousand miles away from where you were just a few days ago?" JP aptly changed the subject, his lighthearted gaze, turning serious. "Tell me you didn't do something stupid, Jack, because you're looking guiltier than the day you brought old Damascus home swearing to me that the horse had gotten himself free from old man Rankin's ranch all on his own and just happened to follow you home."

"I took a job opportunity, that's all." Jack knew his grandfather had a knack for reading him, but hoped he gave a somewhat convincing smile. He also hoped to hell opting to join the CIA was as smart a move as the day he stole Damascus from that bastard who had neglected him. He cleared his throat and met the older man's gaze head on. "I'm going to be working in the private sector for a while, Sir."

"The private sector?" JP arched a brow. "Doing what exactly?"

"Security detail for a government outfit, stuff like that." Jack cringed, the explanation sounding lame as he said it out loud. If he was going to be a spy he was going to have to up his obfuscation game.

"Security detail, huh?" JP put his mug down, folding his arms over his chest. "That sounds a little below your pay grade if you ask me. Uncle Sam invested a lot of money into your training, I don't see them letting all that go to waste for you to stand guard in some office building."

"It's nothing like that, Grandpa." Jack fidgeted in his seat. "I'll be out in the field providing cover for higher ups."

"Sticking your neck out for a bunch of suits?" JP's frown deepened, concern easily read in his eyes.

"Not exactly," Jack hedged, not wanting to straight out lie to the man across from him but understanding all too well he couldn't give specifics. "I'll be piloting them on important jobs, to places that regular stick jockeys going through proper channels might have a problem getting in and out of unnoticed."

"So, you'll still be gone a great deal?" JP worked the end of his mustache, watching Jack thoughtfully.

"Not nearly as much." Jack shook his head, feeling a bit like he was being interrogated despite the dim lighting he'd been grateful for. Maybe after his training he'd be better at dodging his grandfather's steely gaze. "I can actually have some semblance of a normal schedule as part of the work will be from an actual office in LA. I'll have to travel some, sure, but nothing like a deployment to Afghanistan or wherever the hell Delta needed me to be."

JP returned his hands to the table, leaning on his elbows. "There was a time when working Delta was your dream."

"Dreams change, right?" Jack hadn't really expected to love the Army, but training as a pilot had been the highlight. He was good at it and when he discovered he was also a damn good marksman, it gave given him a sense of pride he'd never really accomplished as a teen, not even in the years as a football standout. He nodded to the walls around them. "You didn't always see yourself settled on a horse ranch, researching breeding stock and training trail animals. Before you met Beth, I know you once wanted to be a Charro roaming the ranges of Mexico and riding the rodeo circuit in places like Jalisco and Guanajuato."

"The right person can definitely make a man rethink his priorities." JP picked up his mug once more, taking another drink as he continued to watch Jack in a way that made the younger man want to squirm much like he had when Jack had been not much older than Mac and his grandfather had grilled him on exactly how he'd come in possession of a scraggly, one-shoed horse with more than its fair share of battle scars.

"That's exactly what I'm doing. Making Mac a priority." Jack had done the same thing with Damascus. He'd set his mind on saving the animal, even if that meant facing some pretty stiff penalties as the state of Texas still had little tolerance for a horse thief and old man Rankin was scary as hell. Even then Jack had been more worried about disappointing his grandfather than he was about his own suffering- just as he was now- but the determination to protect Mac was ten-fold what it had been to rescue Damascus and overpowered any inclination to back down in hopes of sparing JP further heartache.

"I love that little boy." JP set his cup back down hard enough this time that some of the coffee sloshed on the table. Jack hadn't expected the edge of anger that colored his grandfather's deep tone, but it was undeniable as was the dangerous glint in his gray eyes, not unlike it had been all those years ago when he'd easily worked out that his young grandson had committed grand theft. "I'd do anything for Angus as sure as if he were my own flesh and blood because in my mind's eye that's exactly what he is, every bit as you are, but it pisses me off that his father ran off and left you holding the bag on what should have been his responsibility. You're all me and your grandmother have left of your daddy, and it about killed us when you enlisted after your sweet momma passed, but I'll be damned if I want to see you tear down all you've built for yourself and jump out of the frying pan and right into the fire because James MacGyver put you in an impossible situation where you feel the need to watch over your brother full time."

"My brother is more important than any career I could have, JP. He sure as hell didn't get to choose the parents he got." Jack was surprised at his own burst of anger. He took a breath, exhaled it out slowly as his grip tightened on the coffee mug. "It's not his fault he's basically an orphan at ten. I don't know what James is doing or why he chose to leave Mac behind, but I'll be damned if I'm going to let my brother suffer for it more than he already has."

"I understand you wanting to watch over your brother, son. It's just that you seem to have abandoned any and all sense of self-preservation in the process."

Jack met JP's challenging gaze with unflinching resolve. "He _needs_ me, Grandpa, and you'd be a hypocrite if you tried to sit here and tell me that you think there's any higher priority than that because all you've ever drilled into my head is how family is the most important thing we have, the legacy every man leaves behind. You've always talked about how actions speak louder than any sentiment, the same thing you drilled into my dad's head when he was here."

For a long moment, the scratchy voice of Ella Fitzgerald coming from the old record player in the living room and the pop and crackle of the fire was the only noises that pierced the tension filled silence between Jack and his grandfather. Jack remembered a similar standoff when Jack refused to take Damascus back and bucked up when his grandfather threatened to return the animal. That showdown had ended when JP had stormed out of the barn, only to return to the ranch a few hours later with a bill of sale proclaiming Jack Dalton Jr the proud new owner of a scrawny three year old buckskin. Jack learned later that his grandfather had paid far more than a fair price for Damascus only after also doling out old man Rankin a taste of his own medicine, which included a beating that made the other rancher reconsider taking any action against the kid who took his property. Much like then, JP was the first to concede.

He gave a shake of his head, letting out a heavy sigh. "Part of your problem, Jack Wyatt Dalton, is that you're too damn much like your old man."

Jack grinned, hoping to erase some of the hurt he could see in his grandfather's watery gaze. "You mean I'm a lot like my dad who just happened to be too damn much like _his_ old man."

"So your grandmother says." JP pinched the bridge of his nose, grimacing a bit as if the whole sorted mess had given him a hell of a headache. "The private sector, huh? Will this work still require you to carry a gun?"

"Hell, what red-blooded Texan doesn't carry a gun, JP? I know good and well you've got your favorite sidearm strapped on you right now and we're having Christmas cocktails." Jack knew his grandfather was inquiring about in what manner Jack might be using a gun, but figured he'd do the older man no favors by elaborating on the fact he'd been chosen for this new career opportunity in most part because of his skill with a rifle.

"You have me there, I suppose." JP finally gave a hint of his trademark lop-sided grin, smoothing a hand over his mustache. "You said you'd be based out of some sort of an office? In Los Angeles?"

"Yeah, in fact, I'll be stationed in the same building that Sarah works in with that fancy law firm of hers." Jack took a long drink of his coffee, appreciating the slow burn of the Irish whiskey which took some of the sting out of recanting the cover he would be using.

"Sarah? Now that's a funny coincidence." JP's mustache twitched, and he wrapped his fingers around his coffee once more. "First she shows up this summer to help you win custody of Mac and now she just happens to reappear when you get offered this convenient new position. I have to say that girl of yours has never struck me as the lawyer type and I'm about as good at reading women as I am horses."

"She's not my girl anymore, JP." Jack might not be clear on everything, but Sarah had made that abundantly crystal during their flight to Turkey by cuddling up to Franklin Sutton.

"Still, it's going to make your grandmother happy to know you two will be running into one another. She's always liked her and would love nothing more than to think you'd settled down and found legitimate employment that wasn't provided by Mama Colton. Any job that keeps you close by that doesn't involve the promotion of a happy hour or the apprehending of absconded parolees will sure enough tickle her fancy."

Jack snorted. "You know us Dalton men live to make Beth happy."

"It's an honorable but daunting task." JP bobbed his brows and Jack knew his grandfather had let him off the hook for the time being. " So how about helping your grandfather out on that task this Christmas? After you help me put your brother's damn telescope together that is."

Jack let out a sigh of relief at the temporary reprieve. He hoped he'd get as lucky with his grandmother and brother. He grinned at his grandfather. "What exactly did you have in mind, old man?"

RcJ

What JP had in mind involved Jack bedding down for the night in the bunkhouse with Miguel and some of the other permanent ranch hands so he could be the ultimate surprise gift under the Christmas tree the next morning. Jack had drawn the line at squeezing himself into a box like some kind of contortionist or donning a bright red bow and ribbons. He'd made his way back to the farmhouse in the still darkness of the morning, trudging through a record breaking six inches of snow which would no doubt throw all of Austin into a panic of epic proportions. Seeing as how Jack had no place to be except right where he was, he hoped the white stuff stuck around long enough for him and Mac to at least do some hiking, since sledding and riding were probably out considering the kid's arm.

He let himself in through the kitchen, grateful the lights were still out, the fragrant smell of a slow-roasting turkey the only tell-tale sign that his grandmother had been at work. The dogs didn't even bother getting out of their warm beds as Jack slipped out of his boots and coat. One glance at the clock told him he had a little time before everyone would start to stir. Navigating the squeaking stairs in the darkness was tricky as it had been a few years since Jack had reason to go sneaking about the house and he had to concentrate to remember where the old house's natural alarms were hidden. One wrong step and his grandmother would be awake and JP's surprise ruined.

Jack let out a sigh of relief when he slipped through his brother's door. He made his way by Christmas tree light to the bed where the kid still slept soundly. Someone, Harry more than likely, had recovered the ten year old, and put Dodger in the box by Mac's bed. The piglet was nestled in a blanket of its own and didn't wake as Jack carefully took a seat on the edge of the mattress, grabbing the spare pillow which he stuffed behind him to prop against the headboard of the bed.

Once settled Jack rested a hand against Mac's hair, feeling a rush of emotion he blamed on lack of sleep and Christmas sentiment as his fingers carded carefully through the soft blond strands. The sudden surge of grief caught him by surprise, his chest actually aching as he remembered other holidays when he'd been Mac's age and awoken so excited to see what lay in store under the tree, years when his parents had been all too obliging to climb out of a warm bed at an ungodly hour to watch him tear into gifts with the uninhibited gusto only a kid who still believed in magic could manage.

Jack comforted himself with the assurance that Mac had known a few of those years himself. Times that Jack treasured with their mom and James when Christmas morning was all about family and togetherness. They'd had that. For a little while.

There had been moments when the love between them seemed to come alive and was an actual living breathing thing, roaming around like one of JP's silly hounds lapping affection on anyone in a warm tongue's reach. Nothing could take those memories away, nor tarnish them, not even the fact that their mom was lost to them and in the wake of her passing James had seemed to forget what Christmas was all about and that family was the best gift. Jack vowed that he'd make sure his little brother had more memories of that caliber starting this very Christmas day.

"Jack?"

The sleepy voice instantly snapped Jack from thoughts of the past. His hand stilled, continuing to rest on Mac's head. He looked down to find his brother's blue eyes, wide with disbelief.

"Hey, bud," Jack said quietly, his grin so big it hurt his face.

"Am I dreaming?" Mac asked breathlessly, not moving an inch as if he were afraid he might wake himself up.

"Surely you have bigger and better things going on in that subconscious of yours, little brother." Jack lifted a brow, letting his hand slide once more over Mac's hair before removing his touch and sitting up straighter. "I figured you dreamed of run on number algorithms or chemical equations in high definition Technicolor, but I'm flattered if all this time you hang out with me in never-never land."

Mac sat up, blinking now, rubbing his eyes with the knuckles of his cast free arm. "Are you a ghost? Please tell me you didn't die over in the desert?"

"Hey now." Jack's smile faded at the wash of genuine fear that filled his boy's gaze. He reached out and wrapped his fingers in the kid's t-shirt giving a little tug. "I'm no Bob Marley or specter of Christmases past or future. I'm in the present, flesh and blood. I promise, kiddo."

"Really?" Mac's hand came to rest over Jack's which now lay over his heart, lip trembling as he looked up at his older brother's face, disbelief and a good bit of confusion still lingering in his light blue gaze. "This is not a dream? You're…home?"

"Where else would I be? It's Christm…" Jack's words were cut off as the kid tackled him, plowing into his chest in a move that made Jack wonder if they should maybe at least look at the kid trying football.

"How? How are you here?" Mac asked, clinging to Jack with a one-handed fierceness that suggested the kid wasn't quite convinced his brother wasn't some spirit or a vision conjured in a dream and might vanish if he didn't hold on to him as tightly as possible. "You said you couldn't come, and then you didn't call and we didn't know where you were."

"Santa, of course." Jack laughed, wrapping his arms around the kid and relishing in the solid warmth that he'd longed to hold for months. He reached a hand up, cupping the back of Mac's head, all hesitation and worry of the deal he'd made with the CIA vanishing in the feeling of immeasurable good fortune he'd been allowed. "I hitched a ride on the big guy's sleigh don't you know."

"I thought I would never see you again." Mac's breath caught and he clung tighter to Jack.

"Hey, it's alright." Jack rubbed the little boy's back. "I'm here now. I'm not going anywhere."

"I told you Santa was real." Mac's voice was mumbled from where his face was pressed against Jack's neck, but the older man did not miss the typical hint of know it all-ness that told him Mac was indeed okay.

"So you did," Jack agreed, with a light laugh. "You always have been smarter than me."

"Meaner, too." Mac finally pulled back, his watery gaze meeting Jack's. "I was wrong saying what I said about you lying to mom. I was just…"

"Don't worry about it, kid." Jack cut his brother off, reaching up to swipe a lone tear from the kid's cheek with his thumb. "You were right to be pissed at me. I let you down and I'll try to make sure it doesn't happen again, but brothers are always going to brush up against one another, say and do stupid stuff to each other that's going to sting. Hell, we might even take a swing at some point. It's been happening since the beginning of time."

"Nana says it all started with the very first brothers, when Cane bashed Abel over the head with a big rock because he was jealous God liked his gift better." Mac's blue gaze was serious. "She was trying to make me feel better about hurting you, but I'm not sure telling me about the first murder inspired by sibling rivalry was the right way to go."

Jack snorted, not surprised at his grandmother's Biblical intervention. There was probably a felt board and possibly some hand puppets involved considering her years in children's ministry. "Nana's one smart cookie, but she's not perfect, bud."

"Do you forgive me?" Mac asked, his hand coming to latch onto Jack's shirt. "I'd never hurt you on purpose, no matter how much better your gift was than mine."

"Of course I do." Jack gave a reassuring grin, running his hand over Mac's hair again."That is of course if you saved me a prime writing spot on this cast." Jack tapped the fiberglass encasing his brother's arm. "Who all signed this thing? It looks like half of Austin."

"I saved you the whole top, well, except for the space I promised to Bozer." Mac pointed to a generous white space void of ink and Sharpie. "He's totally jealous because he's never had a cast before and thinks it's cool that I have actual metal parts in my arm now. Bozer was really hoping that they were made out of Adamantium like Wolverine's claws and that I might be bionic now, but I didn't have the heart to tell him that was probably not the case. I'm still human."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Further proof Wilt Bozer watches way too much television and my little brother is way too kind."

Mac ignored him, intent on proudly showing off all the signatures he'd acquired. "All the ranch hands and Nana's book club and her Sunday school ladies wrote on it. Even doctors Hanson and Peterson, too."

"Don't you mean Dr. _Handsome_?" Jack batted his lashes and Mac giggled, a sound that had Jack tugging the little boy close to him once more, dropping an arm over Mac's shoulders as he drew him close to his side.

"I wouldn't bring him up if I were you." Mac warned, gravely as he nestled beside Jack, glancing up at his older brother once more. "He's kind of a sore spot with grandma and grandpa because Beth invited Dr. Hanson to Christmas dinner after she found out all his family lived in Minnesota and he was all alone in Texas doing his residency. She even promised to make something called a Yule Log because he said his grandmother used to make them for him every year. Grandpa said she was using her baking skills as womanly wiles and then called her ' _Beth_ sheba', which Nana did not find one bit funny and is why we will NOT be having cherry pie or peach cobbler this Christmas."

"But you love cherry pie and peach cobbler is my favorite." Jack was currently so damn happy he could have cared less if they had peanut butter sandwiches and cold beanie weenies for their Christmas meal, but he made an effort to look extremely disgruntled for his brother's benefit.

"Blame JP. They're his favorites, too." Mac sighed. "We're having fruit cake instead."

"Fruit cake?" Jack frowned for real this time. "Who the hell likes fruit cake?"

Mac sighed. "Dr. Peterson's wife. It's _her_ favorite."

"Well, of course it is." Jack shook his head. "Now I see why Grandpa has developed such a romantic streak and it makes sense him wanting to wrap me up like a present and stuff me under the tree." Jack worked hard at maintaining the same seriousness his little brother had achieved. "Do you know he made me sleep out with the ranch hands and wanted me to climb into a box just so he could score points with Beth?"

"It's not a half bad plan but it's going to be hard to beat Nana's gift to him." Mac stated confidently. "Her and Harry went a couple of towns over to pick it up last night."

"I thought they went to Midnight Mass? JP said Harry even wore a tie."

"That was part of their cover story. Nana wanted him to go for the whole suit, but Harry said that was over the top and JP would never buy it," Mac explained. "They actually went one town over to get the Golden Retriever puppy that Nana picked out for JP."

"Hold up a minute." Jack feigned great offense, gaping down at his little brother who had an undeniable glint in his blue eyes. "You think me coming home from the warfront nearly ten thousand miles away-on Christmas day, mind you- won't trump a dog from down the road?"

"Not just any dog, Jack. A Golden Retriever puppy!" Mac reached up and rested a hand on Jack's shoulder. "It's kind of a Cane and Able situation, but even if everyone else thinks it's a no brainer as to who gave the best present, you're still my favorite gift. Even better than the one Daddy sent me."

"Wait? What?" Jack felt the grin slip from his face, all humor vanishing as a flash of something that unexpectedly felt a whole lot like fear tore through his chest. "Did you say from your dad?"

"I got it yesterday." Mac nodded, obviously not picking up on the change in Jack's tone. "And now you're here! This is the best Christmas ever."

"JP didn't mention anything about you getting a package from your dad, bud." Jack knew his grandfather had other things on his mind, Jack's unexpected arrival being first and foremost, but he was certain JP would have mentioned something as important as contact from James MacGyver.

Mac suddenly looked unsure, glancing down at his cast as his fingers from his free hand came to trace a penned caricature of a dog and a boy that looked a lot like Mac and Archimedes. "Well, that's because I didn't tell him. Or Harry." Mac looked up. "I didn't even tell Nana Beth."

"I don't understand." Jack shook his head, turning so that he was facing the ten year old. "Is this a real gift or something pretend like your old imaginary friend, Sully…"

"I don't play make believe anymore. It's real, Jack." Mac rolled his eyes before moving to the edge of the mattress and climbing off. The kid disappeared for a second as Jack heard him shifting things beneath the bed before his blond head popped up again. He held out a small wrapped package as he made his way back to Jack's side. "I found it on my desk when we got back from town yesterday."

"In here?" Jack took the gift, studying it like he might some suspicious parcel an EOD might have discovered on a street in Bagdad. "In your room?"

"I was saving it to open this morning as my one present before breakfast." Mac nodded, his glance going from uncertain to hopeful. "Like we used to do when Mom would let us choose one gift from under the tree before we ate. Remember? I thought it would make it seem like our other Christmases, I mean before everything got messed up."

"I remember, kiddo." Jack forced a half smile, reaching out to brush the kid's bangs out of his face. It seemed he wasn't the only one missing their mother and entertaining memories from the past. But Jack's nostalgia couldn't get past the fact that if James MacGyver had indeed been in his son's room, then he could have just have easily taken Mac instead of leaving some mysterious gift. Jack swallowed hard. "I'm not upset, but how do you know this is from your dad?"

"The paper." Mac pointed to the gold wrapping with the different types of compasses. "Daddy used the same paper to wrap his gifts to me last year."

"Are you sure?"

"I liked the compasses." Mac pointed to the nautical images. "Daddy said he'd try to find me one. Maybe that's what he got me this year."

"Why didn't you tell someone, Mac? Harry or JP?" Jack didn't mean for his tone to be so gruff, but the hurt look that flashed through Mac's gaze told him his words had been rougher than he intended.

"I'm sorry, Jack." Mac pointed to the gift. "It had my name on it. I didn't think it was a big deal."

"It's okay. I'm sorry. Really." Jack put the gift aside and pulled Mac to him once more. He closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around the boy again, this time grateful for the chance for a completely different reason. "I'm not mad. You didn't do anything wrong. I promise. I just need to know if your dad tries to contact you. I just need to know you're safe. Okay."

"Daddy wouldn't hurt me, Jack." Mac pulled back when Jack loosened his hold. "He loves me."

"I know he does, kiddo." Jack put his hand on the side of Mac's face, wishing he had the same confidence in James as his brother. Despite legal papers that now said otherwise, Jack still feared he might somehow lose Mac. He dropped his hand to his brother's shoulder. "But it's my job to watch out for you now. I have to make the decisions that are best-alright, just like with the surgery on your arm. You might not understand, but I need to know if he tries to contact you as soon as it happens. Capisce?"

"But what if I can't talk to you?"

"That shouldn't be a problem anymore." Jack ran a hand down his mouth and sighed. If he had any doubts about the decision he'd made, finding out James MacGyver had been skulking around his grandparent's ranch erased them all in one terrifying revelation. "I'm home and I'm not going anywhere, bud. This isn't just a visit."

"Wait?" Mac reached out and latched onto Jack's shirt again, his gaze widening once more. "You aren't going back to the Army?"

"Not for a while, bud." Jack worked at forcing his fear into the background. He managed a smile for his brother's sake. "In fact I'm going to be doing a different job. I can't tell you that I won't travel and be gone some, but I'll be home a lot more than I was with Delta and you can call me whenever you need to."

"Are you sure I'm not dreaming?" Mac's face lit with an entirely different kind of joy, his smile as bright as their grandmother's ginormous Christmas tree.

Jack shook his head. "It's real, kiddo. I promise."

Jack once more found himself with his arms full as Mac latched onto him again. "This is way better than a Golden Retriever puppy or even a present from Daddy."

"Maybe you should withhold judgment until you actually open the gift." Jack eased back, picking up the present from James once more. His curiosity was killing him and he wanted to make sure Mac knew he wasn't upset about him keeping the present a secret. He lifted a brow. "It might be more than you're expecting."

"I already got everything I could want." Mac grinned, but took the gift anyway. He glanced up at his brother. "Are you sure?"

Jack hesitated, briefly wondering if he should talk to JP or possibly Harry first. He was James' father, after all, and deserved to know the man had apparently been in contact, but that didn't' change the fact that Jack was now Mac's guardian, and any decision concerning his welfare was his to handle. It was the reason he'd made a life-altering change, the reason he'd practically moved mountains as Beth would have said to make it home and he wasn't about to let James MacGyver shake his resolve.

"Go ahead, kiddo. It's basically Christmas morning." Jack gestured to the present. "Open it."

Mac tore through the paper, not needing any further prompting. He didn't let the box beneath the wrappings hold him up either, also making quick work of it to reveal the gift inside.

"It's daddy's watch." Mac said with some awe. "The one Mom gave him when they got married."

"He never takes it off." Jack took the box from his brother, swallowing thickly as he remembered the day when one of his duties as James's best man had him delivering the gift from his mother.

"Why would he give me the best thing mom ever gave him?" Mac questioned as Jack turned the watch over to trace the engraving on the back. He knew the words by heart. _To that which time cannot touch._

"So you'd be sure to know that the watch isn't the best thing Mom gave him." Jack returned the gift to the boy, giving Mac a nod. "That would be you, little brother."

"Oh." Mac looked down at the watch once more, but not before Jack caught the renewed brightness in his blue eyes.

"Do you want me to help you put it on?" Jack asked, clearing his throat. He still wasn't sure what to make of the fact James had been inside the ranch nor could he shake the unsettled feeling it gave him. But it was Christmas and he wasn't about to let his little brother be robbed of one more moment of happiness. "I'm guessing it will fit if we put it on the last notch."

"Sure." Mac nodded, looking up with a half-smile. "He once let me wear it to school every day for a whole week, you know."

"Really?" Jack asked as he carefully strapped the leather band in place. "When was that?"

"When you went away the first time to Afghanistan." Mac nodded. "I missed you something awful and didn't want to go to school, but daddy showed me how one of the smaller faces here on the watch told the time in Asia, and how I could use it to calculate what time it was where you were so I'd know if the sun was shining on you, or if the stars were out over your head. He promised it would make me feel closer to you."

"And did it?" Jack finished the strap, but held on to his little brother's hand. He was surprised that James had come up with such a sentiment, especially at a time when he and Jack had been on such shaky terms. The man was an enigma wrapped in a freaking puzzle.

"Not really." Mac bit his lip, holding Jack's gaze. "But I liked having a part of him with me."

"Then maybe that was the point all along." Jack wrapped his fingers around Mac's wrist and gave a gentle squeeze. "Now you have a piece of him with you all the time, until he comes home."

"Do you think he'll come home?" Mac's eyes shone with a hint of hope. Jack remembered his words to his grandmother about hope being a heart breaker and despite Beth's belief that Mac had the same tendencies of a sunflower and was going to look on the bright side no matter what, Jack wanted to tread easily so not to encourage a belief that might hurt Mac more in the end.

"I don't know, kiddo. I wouldn't expect it anytime soon, but I made it back, right, despite the odds against it."

Mac shrugged, still staring at the watch now fastened on his slight wrist. "But you're my big brother and you said big brothers aren't bound by things like statistics and physics."

Jack rested his hand on Mac's hair, waiting for the kid to look at him. "What I didn't mention was that it just so happens that the same thing sometimes goes for dads. They can actually have capes, too. Mine sure did."

"Do you think someone could be standing on my daddy's cape?"

Jack was thrown by the question at first until he remembered using the illustration as a way to explain how The Army was the only thing holding him back from being at Mac's side. He hadn't ever considered that James MacGyver could have a similar reason for being absent, but he was willing to concede it was at least possible if it kept Mac from feeling as if he were somehow responsible instead.

"You know, now that you mention it that could very well be why he's not going to be here to celebrate with us today." Jack ruffled the kid's hair, earning a familiar scowl which was far better than any hint of sadness. "Whatever the reason, he's going to miss one hell of a party, especially if you can figure out a way to use your future MIT engineering degree to pour this awesome package that is my body into your buddy Dodger's box over there so we can hide me under the tree."

Mac looked at Jack and then over to the cardboard box where the piglet was sleeping. A faint dimple hinted at his cheek as he smoothed his hair back in place. "Sir Isaac Newton's definition of volume would suggest that's highly improbable, if not impossible, Jack."

"But we've already covered that what brothers will do for one another isn't exactly defined by good old science."

"True." Mac agreed, thoughtfully. "But do I get to wrap you up and add a bow?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "Now you sound like JP."

"As Nana always says, 'go big, or go home'." Mac lifted a brow. "Besides if we help grandpa get out of the dog house, we might get our favorite desserts put back on the menu."

"We both know I'd do just about anything for peach cobbler," Jack conceded. He was beginning to understand that apparently there wasn't anything he _wouldn't_ do for his family. He'd joined the CIA and was signed up for spy school for Pete's sake. Squishing himself into Dodger's make-shift bed and letting his brother cover him in shiny paper shouldn't be a problem, and only a small hit to his manly pride. He winked at the kid. "Go grab the damn tape and ribbon before Nana wakes up."

The End…for now.


End file.
